TOUCHSTONE 
F  -  FORT  UNE 


CHAR.LES  -MAJOR, 


The  Touchstone  of  Fortune 


BWt.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


"You  are  mistaken,  sir,  you  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  me." 


The  Touchstone 
of  Fortune 


Being  the  Memoir  of  Baron  Clyde,  who 

lived,  thrived,  and  fell  in  the  Doleful 

Reign  of  the  so-called  Merry 

Monarch,  Charles  II 


BY 
CHARLES    MAJOR 

AUTHOR    OF    "  WHEN    KNIGHTHOOD    WAS    IN    FLOWER,"    ETC. 


1912 

All  rights  reservtd 


COPYRIGHT,  1912, 
Bv  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotypcd.     Published  March,  1912.     Reprinted 
March,  1912. 


Norwood  Presi 

J.  5.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mast.,   U.S.A. 


WiiU 


2131679 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY i 

II.  A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE 21 

III.  IT   IS  HARD   TO   BE   GOOD 44 

IV.  A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL 65 

V.  THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD  SWAN 84 

VI.  SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING 104 

VII.  THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON 124 

VIII.  IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING 153 

IX.  KIDNAPPED 178 

X.  AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER 205 

XI.  "ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"  ....  226 

XII.  A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY 251 

XIII.  FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY 266 

XIV.  HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE          ....  288 


CHAPTER  I 

DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY 

GODDESS  FORTUNE  seems  to  delight  in  smiling 
on  a  man  who  risks  his  all,  including  life,  perhaps, 
on  a  desperate  chance  of,  say  one  to  one  hundred. 
If  her  Ladyship  frowns  and  he  loses,  his  friends  call  him  a 
fool ;  if  he  wins,  they  say  he  is  a  lucky  devil  and  are  pleased 
to  share  his  prosperity  if  he  happens  to  be  of  a  giving  dis- 
position. Lucky  ?  No  !  He  has  simply  minted  his  cour- 
age. 

The  most  remarkable  illustration  of  these  truths  that 
has  ever  come  to  my  knowledge  is  my  friend  George  Hamil- 
ton, the  second  son  in  this  generation  of  the  illustrious 
House  of  Hamilton,  Count  Anthony  being  its  present  head. 
The  younger  son  was  penniless  save  for  the  crumbs  that 
fell  from  his  elder  brother's  table,  and  Count  Anthony  was 
one  who  kept  an  eye  on  the  crumbs.. 

George,  who  was  of  an  independent  nature,  accepted 
Anthony's  grudging  help  reluctantly.  Therefore  when 
Charles  II  was  restored  to  the  English  throne  in  1660,  the 
younger  Hamilton,  who  had  been  with  the  king  in  exile, 


2  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

was  glad  to  assume  the  duties  of  Second  Gentleman  of  the 
Bedchamber  in  Whitehall  Palace.  With  the  pension  at- 
tached to  this  office,  winnings  at  cards  and  other  uncertain 
revenues  from  disreputable  sources,  George  was  enabled  to 
maintain  himself  at  court  where  debts  were  not  necessarily 
paid,  where  honesty  and  virtue  were  held  in  contempt,  and 
where  vice  of  all  sorts  was  not  only  the  daily  stock  in  trade 
but  the  daily  stock  of  jest  and  pleasure,  boasting  and  pride ; 
for  what  is  the  use  of  being  wicked  if  one  hides  one's  light 
under  a  bushel  ? 

Hamilton  was  a  favorite  with  those  who  knew  him  well 
and  was  respected  by  those  who  knew  him  slightly,  not 
because  of  his  virtues,  for  they  were  few,  but  because  he 
was  strikingly  handsome  in  person,  moderately  quick  of 
wit,  generous  to  an  enemy,  kind  to  every  one,  brave  to  the 
point  of  recklessness,  and  decent  even  in  vice,  if  that  be 
possible.  He  was  no  better  than  his  friends  save  in  these 
easy  qualities,  but  while  he  was  as  bad  in  all  other  respects 
as  his  surroundings,  the  evil  in  him  was  due  more  to  environ- 
ment than  to  natural  tendencies,  and  the  good  —  well,  that 
was  his  undoing,  as  this  history  will  show.  A  man  who 
attempts  to  'bout  ship  morally  in  too  great  haste  is  liable 
to  miss  stays  and  be  swamped,  for  nothing  so  grates  on  us 
as  the  sudden  reformation  of  our  friends,  while  we  remain 
unregenerate. 

But  to  write  Hamilton's  history  I  must  begin  at  the  be- 
ginning, which  in  this  case  happens  to  be  my  beginning, 
and  shall  conclude  with  his  "hundred  to  one"  venture, 
which  closed  his  career  and  mine,  at  least  in  England. 

The  Clydes,  of  whom  I  am  the  present  head,  have  always 
had  great  respect  for  the  inevitable  and  have  never  per- 
mitted the  idealization  of  a  hopeless  cause  to  lead  them 
into  trouble  solely  for  trouble's  sake.  So  it  was  that  when 


DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY  3 

my  father  of  blessed  memory  saw  that  King  Charles  I  and 
his  favorites  were  determined  to  wreck  the  state,  them- 
selve's,  and  their  friends,  he  fell  ill  of  the  gout  at  an  oppor- 
tune moment,  which  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  hasten 
to  Germany  to  take  the  cure  at  the  baths. 

My  revered  father  was  the  twenty-second  Baron  Clyde, 
Edwin  by  baptism,  and  I,  his  namesake,  am,  or  rather  was, 
the  twenty-third  and  last  baron  of  our  line,  having  lost  my 
title  by  reason  of  entanglement  with  the  desperate  for- 
tunes of  George  Hamilton. 

My  father  had  been  a  staunch  supporter  of  Charles  I, 
not  only  because  Charles  was  our  divinely  appointed  king, 
but  also  because  his  Majesty  was  a  lovable  person  in  many 
respects.  His  misfortunes  were  the  result  of  bad  advice, 
false  philosophy,  and  a  heart  too  kind.  Kindliness  in  a 
king  is  a  dangerous  virtue,  and  a  royal  conscience  is  like  a 
boil  on  the  elbow,  always  in  the  way.  Aside  from  his 
kindliness  there  were  only  two  other  qualities  necessary  to 
insure  King  Charles  I  the  loss  of  his  head,  and  he  pos- 
sessed them  —  stubbornness  and  weakness.  A  good  king 
need  have  but  two  virtues,  strength  and  love  for  his  people, 
but  if  he  would  reign  comfortably,  these  virtues  must  be 
supplemented  by  a  strenuous  vice,  —  sure  death  to  his 
enemies. 

So  when  my  father  saw  that  fidelity  to  King  Charles's 
hopeless  cause  meant  hopeless  ruin,  he  took  the  gout  and 
went  to  Germany.  Absence  from  England  enabled  him 
to  desert  the  cause  he  loved,  but  could  not  help,  and  more, 
it  saved  him  the  humiliation  of  being  compelled  to  join  the 
Cromwell  forces,  —  a  cause  which  he  could  have  helped,  but 
hated.  Therefore  he  saw  to  it  that  his  gout  remained  with 
him  during  the  entire  Cromwell  interregnum,  and  he  died 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle  just  before  the  recall  of  Charles  II  to 
the  English  throne. 


4  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

I  inherited  my  father's  title  and  a  part  of  his  estate ;  a 
great  portion  of  the  latter  having  been  granted  to  the 
accommodating  husband  of  one  of  Charles  II's  friends. 

I  returned  to  England  with  the  king,  and,  as  balm  to  my 
wounded  estate,  was  made  Second  Gentleman  of  the  Ward- 
robe in  that  modern  Sodom,  Whitehall  Palace,  Westminster, 
where  lived  Charles  II,  who  was  said  to  have  been  appointed 
and  anointed  of  God,  king  of  our  glorious  realm.  God  makes 
some  curious  mistakes,  if  human  opinion  is  to  be  accepted. 

The  name  Lot  was  unknown  in  Whitehall,  but  Mesdames 
Potiphar,  Salome,  and  Delilah  were  met  at  every  turn, 
while  Davids  and  Johns,  eager  to  be  tempted,  and  Sam- 
sons, stooping  to  be  shorn,  hedged  the  king  about  with 
anything  save  divinity. 

That  interesting  Frenchman,  Comte  de  Grammont,  is 
accredited  with  saying  that  during  his  residence  in  Eng- 
land he  knew  but  one  woman  in  Whitehall  who  was  both 
beautiful  and  pure,  —  Frances  Jennings,  maid  of  honor  to 
her  Grace,  the  Duchess  of  York,  the  Duke  of  York  being 
James,  brother  of  Charles  II,  and  heir  presumptive  to  the 
English  throne. 

I  am  proud  to  say  that  this  beautiful  Frances  Jennings 
was  my  mother's  brother's  child.  In  early  youth  I  had 
lived  in  her  father's  house  and  was  more  her  elder  brother 
than  her  cousin. 

I  suppose  De  Grammont  was  wrong  in  his  sweeping 
assertion,  but  he  was  right  in  his  judgment  of  Frances,  for 
though  she  was  admittedly  the  most  beautiful  woman  — 
perhaps  I  should  say  girl,  for  she  was  very  young  —  at 
court,  she  — .  But  what  befell  her  is  a  part  of  George 
Hamilton's  history  and  shall  be  told  all  in  its  turn. 

Frances  Jennings  and  her  younger  sister  Sarah,  who 
afterwards  became  the  first  duchess  of  the  present  House 


DAUGHTERS  AND   POVERTY  5 

of  Marlborough,  were  the  daughters  of  my  uncle,  Sir 
Richard  Jennings,  of  Sundridge,  near  St.  Albans.  With  a 
fidelity  more  creditable  to  his  heart  than  to  his  head,  Sir 
Richard  had  clung  to  the  cause  of  Charles  I,  had  lost  his 
entire  fortune,  and  in  the  end  was  forced  to  bend  his  neck 
to  the  yoke  of  Cromwell  to  save  his  life.  When  Charles  II 
returned  to  the  throne,  he  easily  forgave  Sir  Richard  his 
enforced  apostasy,  but  failed  to  return  his  estates,  forgive- 
ness being  so  much  easier  than  restitution  to  an  indolent 
selfish  nature. 

So  it  was  that  at  the  time  this  story  opens,  which  was 
several  years  after  King  Charles's  return,  Sir  Richard  and 
his  two  daughters  were  living  almost  in  poverty  at  Sun- 
dridge, hoping  for  help  from  the  king,  though  little  expect- 
ing it.  Without  assistance  furnished  by  myself  and  a 
former  retainer  of  Sir  Richard,  one  Roger  Wentworth, 
who  had  become  a  prosperous  tanner  of  Sundridge,  my 
cousins  and  my  uncle  would  have  been  reduced  to  want. 
But  Wentworth  and  I  kept  up  a  meagre  household,  and  I 
was  on  watch  at  court  to  forward  my  uncle's  interest,  if 
by  any  good  fortune  an  opportunity  should  come.  At 
last,  after  long  waiting,  it  came,  though  as  often  occurs 
with  happiness  delayed,  it  was  mingled  with  bitterness. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  year  1662  or  '63  —  it  may  have 
been  a  year  or  two  earlier  or  later,  I  cannot  say  at  this 
distance  of  time  —  the  Duchess  of  York,  who,  with  her  hus- 
band, lived  in  Whitehall  Palace  with  King  Charles,  an- 
nounced her  intention  of  choosing  her  maids  of  honor  by 
personal  inspection.  She  declared  that,  barring  the  fact 
that  the  maids  must  be  of  good  family,  beauty  would  win 
the  golden  apple,  as  it  had  in  olden  Greece.  On  hearing 
this  news,  I  saw  the  opportunity  for  which  I  had  waited 
so  long.  If  beauty  was  to  be  the  test,  surely  my  cousin 
Frances  would  become  a  maid  of  honor,  and  once  at  court, 


6  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

if  she  could  keep  her  head  and  her  heart,  the  fortunes  of 
her  house  were  sure  to  rise,  for  the  world  has  never  known 
so  good  a  beauty  market  as  Whitehall  was  at  that  time. 

There  was  no  question  about  my  cousin's  beauty.  Would 
she  be  able  to  make  it  bring  a  price  worthy  of  its  quality  ? 
To  do  this,  she  must  have  the  cunning  of  the  serpent,  the 
virtue  of  a  saint,  and  the  courage  of  Roland  himself.  She 
must  not  be  fastidious,  though  she  must  be  suspicious. 
She  must  not  be  a  prude,  though  she  must  know  that  all 
is  evil  about  her.  Lastly  she  must  have  no  heart,  though 
she  must  learn  the  rare  art  of  being  tender  to  the  right 
person  at  the  right  time. 

I  was  sure  that  Frances  was  equipped  with  the  mental 
and  moral  qualities  necessary  in  so  dangerous  a  field  as 
Whitehall  Court.  Among  those  qualities  was  her  knowl- 
edge that  she  was  beautiful ;  not  that  she  believed  it  as  a 
matter  of  vanity,  but  knew  it  simply  as  a  matter  of  fact. 
That  knowledge  would  give  her  self-confidence  and  would 
help  her  to  value  justly  the  flattery  of  men,  which  was 
sure  to  be  her  portion  to  overflowing.  She  would  know 
that  flattery  was  her  due,  and  therefore  would  not  be  too 
grateful  for  it,  gratitude  being  a  dangerous  virtue  in  a 
woman.  She  was  as  dear  to  me  as  if  she  were  my  sister, 
and  I  hesitated  bringing  her  to  terrible  Whitehall.  But 
desperate  conditions  need  desperate  remedies,  so  I  deter- 
mined to  lay  the  matter  before  my  uncle  and  let  him  and 
my  cousins  decide  the  question  for  themselves. 

With  this  object  in  view,  one  bright  spring  morning,  I 
took  horse  at  the  Leg  Tavern  in  King  Street,  Westminster, 
and  rode  to  Sundridge  to  spend  a  few  days  with  my  uncle, 
hoping  to  interest  my  beautiful  cousin  in  the  Duchess  of 
York's  announcement  concerning  the  choice  of  her  maids. 
I  knew  that  Sir  Richard  would  protest  against  Frances's 
going  to  Whitehall,  but  I  hoped,  with  the  help  of  my 


DAUGHTERS  AND   POVERTY  7 

cousins,  to  override  the  old  gentleman's  feeble  will.  While 
I  saw  clearly  the  dangers  the  girl  would  encounter ;  I  had 
faith  in  her  strength,  and  felt  sure  the  chances  of  making 
her  fortune  were  worth  the  risk.  In  other  words,  I  was 
staking  a  human  soul  which  was  infinitely  dear  to  me, 
against  wealth  and  station  —  a  hundred  to  one  chance, 
even  with  the  Fates  smiling.  When  one  considers  how 
seldom  the  long  odds  are  taken  and  how  often  they  win, 
one  cannot  help  believing  that  courage  is  the  touchstone  of 
Fortune;  the  criterion  by  which  the  capricious  Goddess 
measures  her  votaries  and  distributes  her  smiles. 

I  made  my  journey  to  Sundridge  and  arrived  there  in 
the  afternoon  near  the  hour  of  three,  finding  my  uncle 
and  my  cousin  Sarah  at  home,  but  Frances  abroad. 

"She  walks  a  great  deal  nowadays,"  remarked  my  uncle, 
and  Sarah  assented  with  —  "Yes,  a  great  deal,"  having,  I 
fancied,  more  significance  in  her  manner  than  in  her  words. 

"There  has  been  hardly  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  a  month 
that  she  has  not  been  abroad  with  her  book,"  continued 
Sir  Richard. 

"Her  book,"  murmured  Sarah,  who  was  a  laconic  young 
person,  much  given  to  observing  conditions  about  her  and 
equally  prone  to  keep  her  conclusions  to  herself. 

"She  refuses  all  company,"  remarked  my  uncle,  who  did 
not  seem  to  catch  the  sceptical  inflection  in  his  younger 
daughter's  voice,  "and  I  sometimes  fear  she  wishes  to  be 
alone  because  she  is  brooding  over  our  misfortunes." 

"Brooding  !"  murmured  Sarah,  with  slightly  lifted  eye- 
brows. 

"Even  when  she  is  at  home  she  sits  all  day  long  at  the 
window  and  sighs,"  said  Sir  Richard,  dolefully. 

"Sighs,"  concurred  laconic  Sarah. 

There  are  so  many  symptoms  which,  in  a  young  woman, 
may  seem  to  indicate  the  disease  of  love  that  one  making 


8  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

a  hasty  diagnosis  is  likely  to  fall  upon  that  malady,  it 
being  prevalent  in  spring,  both  of  the  year  and  of  life.  I 
had  believed  that  my  cousin's  healthful  vanity  and  quiet 
strength  of  character  would,  in  a  measure,  keep  her  safe 
from  this  troublesome  spring  disorder,  but  my  uncle's 
account  of  her  doings  led  me  to  fear  that  perhaps  her 
wholesome  armor  of  self-conceit  was  not  so  invulnerable  as 
I  had  hoped. 

Later  I  spoke  my  half-formed  doubt  to  Sarah,  who 
answered :  — 

"I  don't  know  what  she  is  doing.     I  attend  to  my  own 

business;  that  is,  unless  I  see  profit  in  meddling  elsewhere." 

"Ah,  but  this  is  your  business  and  mine  if  we  love  your 

sister,  as  you  will  say  when  you  learn  the  object  of  my 

visit,"  I  answered,  hoping  to  loosen  her  cautious  tongue. 

Sarah's  eyes  opened  wide  with  a  question  in  them,  but 
her  lips  remained  sealed,  and  I  would  not  satisfy  her  curi- 
osity, which  I  knew  was  at  boiling-point,  until  she  had 
made  a  direct  request.  Her  manner  had  resolved  my 
doubts  into  fears,  so  as  she  did  not  speak,  I  continued :  — 

"But  you  must  be  able  to  form  an  opinion  as  to  what 
your  sister  is  doing.    You  are  with  her  all  the  time,  and 
every  young  girl  instinctively  knows  the  symptoms  of  love, 
even  though  she  may  never  have  felt  them." 
"Not  I !"  she  answered,  with  sharp  emphasis. 
"Oh,  but  you  may  suspect  or  surmise,"  I  insisted. 
"  Suspect  sometimes.     Surmise  never.     Waste  of  energy," 
answered  Sarah,  who,  of  all  the  persons  I  knew,  had  energy 
to  spare. 

"It  would  be  a  crime,  a  horrible  crime,"  I  continued, 
hoping  in  time  to  extract  her  opinion,  "if  your  beautiful 
sister  were  to  throw  herself  away  on  any  man  to  be  met 
hereabout." 

"Horrible!"  acquiesced  Sarah,  earnestly. 


DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY  9 

"Then  why  don't  you  watch  her,  and,  if  need  be,  prevent 
such  a  mistake  ?"  I  suggested. 

"Not  necessary,"  answered  Sarah. 

As  she  failed  to  explain,  I  asked,  "Why  is  it  not  neces- 
sary?" 

"Because  she  is  not  a  fool,"  returned  Sarah,  indicating  by 
her  manner  that  I  might  find  her  meaning  if  I  could. 

A  moment's  thought  carried  me  to  her  conclusions,  and 
I  laughed  because  I  was  answered  and  pleased,  being  con- 
vinced that  Sarah,  at  least,  did  not  consider  her  sister  in 
danger.  Then  I  caught  Sarah  in  my  arms  and  kissed  her, 
saying :  — 

"A  kiss  !  That's  for  wisdom,  cousin  !"  Sarah's  was  a 
drawing  personality. 

"A  slap  !  That's  for  impudence !  "  answered  Sarah, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  though  there  was  a  smile  in 
her  eyes. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  Frances  came  home  radiant  and 
offered  me  her  cheek  to  kiss.  She  was  delighted  to  see  me, 
though  I  noticed  short  lapses  from  attention,  which  seemed 
to  indicate  preoccupation.  But  I  had  learned  my  lesson 
from  Sarah  and  soon  came  back  to  my  belief  that  Frances 
was  not  a  fool,  and  that  whatever  malady  her  symptoms 
might  indicate,  she  would  never  permit  it  to  in  ure  her. 

After  talking  with  my  uncle  and  my  cousins  a  few 
minutes,  I  said :  "I  have  had  a  long  ride  and  want  a  good 
supper.  Come,  Frances,  let  us  go  out  and  buy  all  the 
good  things  in  Sundridge." 

Sir  Richard  said  nothing,  and  a  faint  shadow  of  humilia- 
tion came  to  Frances's  face,  but  practical  Sarah  settled  the 
question  by  saying :  — 

"Go  with  him,  Frances,  and  see  that  he  buys  enough. 
You  know  we  have  had  barely  a  crust  in  the  house  the  last 
fortnight,  and  not  a  farthing  in  all  that  time  with  which 


io     THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

to  buy  one.  We  have  .a  warm  welcome  for  you,  Baron 
Ned,  but  welcome  after  a  long  ride  is  a  mere  appetizer. 
I'll  fetch  a  basket  —  yes,  two  !" 

The  name  "Baron  Ned"  was  a  heritage  from  the  days 
of  my  childhood,  and  doubtless  it  will  cling  to  me  till  the 
day  of  my  death.  I  have  never  objected  to  it  on  the  lips 
of  my  friends,  but  rather,  have  always  liked  it. 

Sarah's  good  common  sense  set  us  all  laughing,  and 
when  she  brought  in  two  large  baskets,  Frances  and  I  went 
forth  to  buy  our  supper. 

When  we  were  a  short  way  from  the  house,  I  said : 
"I've  come  to  spend  several  days  with  you,  my  cousin- 
sister.  Are  you  not  delighted  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  cordially  enough,  but  without  the 
old-time  gladness  in  her  manner. 

"And  my  purpose  in  coming  concerns  you,"  I  continued. 

She  started  perceptibly  and  blushed,  but  after  a  moment 
brought  herself  together  and  asked  laughingly :  — 

"You  don't  want  to  marry  me,  brother  Ned?" 

"No  no,"  I  answered.  "We're  far  too  dear  to  each 
other  to  spoil  it  all  by  marriage,  and  my  station  in  life,  to 
say  nothing  of  my  small  estate,  is  in  no  way  up  to  your 
value.  It  would  not  be  a  fair  exchange.  Your  husband 
shall  be  at  least  a  duke,  with  not  less  than  forty  thousand 
pounds  a  year.  That,  by  the  way,  is  a  part  of  my  mission 
in  Sundridge.  No,  no,  I  do  not  bring  an  offer  !"  I  said, 
hastily,  noticing  that  she  drew  away  from  me  in  her  man- 
ner, "I  simply  hope  to  pave  the  way  to  such  an  offer 
some  time  in  the  future,  and  want  to  warn  you  against 
doing  anything  that  might  forestall  good  fortune." 

I  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  her  manner  of 
drawing  away  became  so  pronounced  that  I  feared  I  might 
lose  my  race  by  going  too  fast,  so  I  quickly  sought  to  right 
myself  by  saying  with  marked  emphasis  :  — 


DAUGHTERS  AND   POVERTY  11 

"I  am  not  going  to  pry  into  your  affairs." 

A  telltale  blush  came  to  her  cheek  as  she  interrupted 
me  with  a  touch  of  warmth  :  "I  have  no  affairs." 

"I  am  sure  you  have  not,"  I  answered  soothingly, 
"though  a  girl  as  beautiful  as  you  are  is  sure  to  attract 
men,  and  is  quite  as  sure  to  have  little  affairs.  But  they 
are  of  no  more  importance  than  a  laugh  and  a  sigh." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course.  Of  no  importance  —  not  the 
least,"  she  answered,  blushing  exquisitely,  and  uncon- 
sciously telling  me  there  was  an  affair. 

"No,  no,"  I  continued  earnestly.  "I  do  not  want  to 
pry.  I  am  simply  going  to  suggest  a  project  which  per- 
haps you  may  turn  to  your  advantage.  Marriage  has  no 
part  in  it  save  that  the  greatest  good  fortune  that  can 
befall  a  woman  is  to  marry  well,  which  I  hope  will  be  the 
ultimate  result  of  what  I  shall  propose.  If  a  young  woman's 
friends  do  not  put  her  in  a  position  to  marry  the  right 
sort  of  a  man,  they  fail  in  their  duty  to  her." 

"I  hate  the  word  'marriage,'"  returned  Frances,  im- 
patiently. 

"Ah,  but  It 'is  a  woman's  privilege,  the  one  great  pur- 
pose of  her  life,"  I  insisted.  "Why  pretend  otherwise?  I 
don't  believe  in  the  drag-net  process  of  getting  a  husband, 
but  in  England  a  girl  must  be  seen  before  she  is  married, 
and  her  chief  concern  should  be  to  be  seen  by  the  right 
man." 

"I  should  detest  the  right  man,"  returned  Frances,  now 
grown  almost  surly. 

"Yes,  yes,  now,  perhaps.  But  the  suggestion  I  have  to 
make,  if  acted  upon,  will  do  all  these  things  for  you  and 
will  give  you  the  opportunity  to  detest  the  'right  man' 
intelligently  if  you  feel  so  inclined  when  you  meet  him.  I 
have  taken  it  upon  myself  to  come  all  the  way  to  Sun- 
dridge  with  a  suggestion,  because  of  the  love  I  bear  you 


12  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

and  because  you  have  no  mother  to  do  these  things  for 
you.  As  for  dear  Uncle  Richard  —  well,  you  know,  he 
can't." 

"No,  no !  father  is  old  and  of  late  has  been  failing 
rapidly.  Sarah  and  I  can  look  for  no  help  from  him.  On 
the  contrary,  we  must  help  him.  I  have  thought  of  noth- 
ing else,  night  or  day,  for  years.  Tell  me  what  it  is  you 
have  to  suggest.  What  you  have  had  to  say  to  us  has 
always  been  for  our  good.  We  should  have  starved  these 
last  five  years  had  it  not  been  for  you  and  good  old  Roger 
Wentworth.  Tell  me,  Baron  Ned,  what  have  you  come 
to  offer  me?" 

I  had  intended  telling  Frances  privately  of  the  Duchess 
of  York's  announcement,  but  after  my  talk  with  her  I 
concluded  to  wait  and  to  make  the  statement  in  the  presence 
of  her  father,  so  I  answered :  — 

"I  am  not  ready  to  tell  you  just  now,  but  I'll  do  so 
before  I  return  to  London." 

"Then  return  at  once,  Baron  Ned." 

"If  I  do,  you'll  never  hear  it,"  I  answered. 

"In  that  case,  stay.  But  tell  me  as  soon  as  you  can, 
for  pent-up  curiosity  is  killing  to  a  girl,"  said  Frances,  with 
a  doleful  little  smile. 

"Does  nothing  else  trouble  just  now?"   I  asked. 

She  turned  to  me  in  surprise,  blushed  and  answered: 
"Yes.  My  poor,  dear  father.  Yes  —  father.  Of  course 
there's  nothing  else.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"Just  to  be  asking,"  I  replied. 

At  that  point  we  came  to  the  shop  where  we  were  to 
buy  our  supper,  and  I  was  glad  to  change  the  subject.  I 
had  learned  definitely  that  there  was  a  man  in  the  case, 
and  my  task  would  be  to  put  him  out  if  I  could.  The 
man  who  first  enters  a  young  girl's  heart  is  hard  to  dis- 
lodge, and  the  worst  part  of  the  terrible  business  is  that 


DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY  13 

even  she  herself  may  be  unable  to  expel  him  her  whole  life 
through. 

When  supper  was  well  under  way  that  evening,  I  took 
the  opportunity  to  set  my  great  ball  rolling,  and  said :  — 

"Uncle  Richard,  I  have  come  from  London  for  the  pur- 
pose of  offering  a  suggestion  which  may  eventually  be  of 
advantage  to  all  of  you." 

Sarah  put  down  her  knife  and  fork  to  listen;  Frances 
held  hers  in  suspense,  and  Sir  Richard  looked  up  quickly, 
asking :  — 

"What  is  it,  nephew?    We  all  thank  you  in  advance." 

A  cold  bath  is  better  taken  quickly,  so  I  plunged  in. 

"The  Duchess  of  York  has  announced  her  intention  to 
choose  four  maids  of  honor  by  personal  inspection.  Aside 
from  the  fact  that  they  must  be  of  good  family,  they  will 
be  taken  solely  on  account  of  their  beauty,  the  most  beau- 
tiful to  win." 

Frances  dropped  her  knife  and  fork  and  sprang  to  her 
feet,  exclaiming :  — 

"I'm  going  to  see  the  duchess  !  Thank  you,  cousin  Ned  ! 
I'll  be  a  maid  of  honor !" 

"Of  course  —  beauty!"  observed  Sarah,  resuming  her 
supper  with  a  dry  laugh. 

"Your  sister  can  win  on  the  terms  offered,  if  anyone 
can,"  said  I,  turning  sharply  on  Sarah. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  returned  Sarah.  "I  laughed  only 
because  she  is  so  sure." 

Frances  then  turned  to  her  sister,  not  reproachfully  but 
earnestly:  "Sure?"  she  exclaimed.  "Of  course  I  am 
sure.  I  know  myself.  You  have  a  far  better  mind  than 
mine,  but  I  have  —  well,  I  know  what  I  have.  I  don't 
believe  I  am  vain,  but  I  know,  sister,  that  you  and  I  must 
rebuild  the  fortunes  of  our  house,  or  worse  will  come  to 
us  than  we  have  ever  known.  You  are  sure  to  do  your 


14     THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

part  because  you  have  intellect  —  brains.  You  know  you 
have.  Is  it  any  less  a  matter  of  vanity  for  you  to  know 
yourself  than  it  is  for  me  to  know  myself  ?  I  know  what 
I  have,  and  I  intend  to  use  it." 

Sarah  assented  by  the  monosyllable,  "Right!"  while 
Frances  ran  to  the  head  of  the  table,  knelt  by  her  father's 
chair,  and  said  :  — 

"It  is  all  for  dear  old  father's  sake." 

Sir  Richard  brought  his  daughter's  head  to  his  shoulder, 
affectionately  smoothed  her  hair  for  a  moment,  and  spoke 
with  quavering  earnestness :  — 

"It  is  not  to  be  thought  of  one  moment.  Whitehall  is  a 
nest  of  infamy,  and  the  king,  I  am  told,  is  the  worst  man 
in  it.  I  gave  all  I  had  to  his  martyred  father,  and  now  the 
son  does  not  even  so  much  as  refuse  to  make  restitution. 
He  simply  gives  lying  promises  and  leaves  me  to  starve. 
I  am  surprised,  nephew,  that  you  come  to  us  with  this 
proposition." 

"In  that  case,  dear  uncle,  it  shall  be  dropped  at  once," 
said  I,  expecting,  however,  to  take  it  up  at  another  time. 

Frances  was  about  to  insist,  but  a  glance  from  Sarah 
stopped  her,  and  she  remained  silent.  I  knew  it  would 
require  a  great  deal  of  sound  argument  to  bring  Sir  Richard 
to  our  way  of  thinking,  but  I  was  sure  that  Sarah  could 
soften  him  and  that,  at  the  right  time,  I  could  finish  our 
helpless  antagonist.  Meantime  the  love  affair  of  Frances, 
if  there  was  one,  should  be  looked  into,  if  Frances  did  not 
object  too  seriously.  In  truth,  I  was  a  very  busy  man, 
solely  with  the  affairs  of  other  people. 

Being  so  engaged  in  telling  of  other  people's  affairs,  I 
have  not  had  time  to  mention  the  fact  that  I  had  a  love 
affair  of  my  own,  that  is,  if  I  may  call  that  a  love  affair 
which  involved  only  one  person  —  myself.  She  who  I 
hoped  would  one  day  be  the  party  of  the  second  part  was 


DAUGHTERS  AND  POVERTY  15 

Mary  Hamilton,  sister  to  Count  Anthony  and  George 
Hamilton,  mention  of  whom  was  made  at  the  outset  of 
this  history. 

I  myself  may  have  been  lacking  in  morals,  but  at  my 
worst  I  was  a  saint  compared  to  George  Hamilton  and  his 
friends,  Lord  Berkeley,  young  Wentworth,  and  the  king's 
son,  James  Crofts,  Duke  of  Monmouth.  There  was,  how- 
ever, this  difference  between  George  and  his  friends:  he 
was  gentlemanly  picturesque  in  wickedness;  they  were 
nauseous  in  the  jUthiness  of  vice. 

After  I  became  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  George  Hamil- 
ton's sister,  I  had  closed  my  eyes  to  his  shortcomings  and, 
for  some  time  prior  to  my  Sundridge  visit,  had  sought  to 
further  my  cause  with  her  by  winning  her  brother's  help. 
I  had  known  Hamilton  many  years  before,  when  we  were 
all  exiles  in  Holland  and  France,  and  had  always  liked 
him.  In  fact,  we  had  been  friends  from  our  youth,  and 
while  in  latter  years  I  had  not  seen  much  of  him,  having 
avoided  him  because  of  his  vicious  mode  of  life,  I  had 
found  no  difficulty  in  taking  up  our  old  intimacy.  At  the 
time  of  which  I  am  writing  I  was  sure  that  he  was  my 
friend  and  had  given  him  good  reason  to  think  the  same 
of  me.  There  was  an  attraction  about  him  that  was 
winning  and  irresistible  even  to  men.  What  must  it  have 
been  to  women  ? 

I  speak  of  this  friendship  between  George  Hamilton  and 
me  at  this  time  because  of  the  great  strain  its  bonds  were 
soon  to  have ;  so  great  that  I  am  still  wondering  why  they 
did  not  break.  To  close  this  mention  of  my  own  love 
affair,  I  would  say  that  at  the  time  of  my  visit  to  Sun- 
dridge I  had  reasonable  cause  to  hope  for  a  favorable  ter- 
mination. Not  that  I  expected  ever  to  kindle  a  fiery 
passion  in  Mary's  breast,  for  she  was  not  of  the  combustible 
sort,  but  I  believed  she  liked  me,  favored  my  suit,  and  I 


16  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

hoped  would  accept  me  in  the  end.  While  she  was  very 
pretty,  she  was  not  of  so  great  beauty  as  to  mislead  her 
family  into  expecting  that  she  would  catch  an  earl  by  fish- 
ing in  a  duck  pond,  and,  barring  the  earl,  I  should  be  a 
husband  more  or  less  satisfactory  to  her  and  her  family. 
George  was  my  friend  in  the  matter,  and  to  him  I  believed 
I  owed  much  of  my  prospects  of  success.  Soon  the  rela- 
tion of  my  own  love  affair  to  that  of  my  cousin  Frances 
will  be  apparent. 

My  second  day  at  Sundridge  was  spent  with  my  uncle 
and  my  cousins,  Frances  remaining  at  home  with  us. 
Adroit  Sarah  had  talked  with  her  father  about  the  maid- 
of-honorship  and  had  found  an  opportunity  to  tell  me  that 
while  he  was  not  yet  persuaded,  he  was  at  least  in  a  recep- 
tive mood,  ready  to  listen  to  what  I  had  to  say.  In  the 
evening  Frances  and  Sarah  went  off  to  bed  early,  leaving 
Sir  Richard  to  the  mercies  of  myself  and  a  flagon  of  worm- 
wood wine  which  I  had  brought  in  as  an  ally  from  the 
Black  Dog  Tavern. 

At  first  when  I  broached  the  subject  of  Frances  becom- 
ing a  maid  of  honor,  he  turned  away  from  me,  saying :  — 

"I  fear,  nephew,  I  fear  !  I  confess  that  I  did  not  expect 
the  suggestion  to  come  from  you;  you  know  the  court 
even  better  than  I  do.  My  dear  boy,  we  might  as  well 
send  the  little  girl  to  the  devil  at  once." 

"Whitehall  is  no  heaven,  I  admit,"  I  answered.  "But 
you  don't  know  Frances.  She  will  be  as  safe  at  court  as 
she  is  in  your  house.  The  devil  is  everywhere,  uncle,  if 
one  chooses  to  seek  him." 

"That  is  true,  Ned." 

"And  Frances  will  not  seek  him  anywhere.  Of  that  I 
was  sure  before  I  determined  to  suggest  this  matter.  It  is 
true  she  has  seen  nothing  of  life  beyond  the  pale  of  your 
influence  and  protection,  but  you  are  well  along  in  years, 


DAUGHTERS   AND   POVERTY  17 

uncle,  and  must  face  the  truth  that  your  daughters  will 
have  to  confront  the  world  without  you,  sooner  or  later  — 
later,  I  hope." 

"That  terrible  truth  is  my  only  reason  to  fear  death," 
returned  Sir  Richard,  sighing  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair. 

"Yes,  it  must  be  a  terrible  thought  to  you,"  I  answered, 
cruelly,  for  the  purpose  of  forcing  my  dear  old  antagonist 
into  the  right  way  of  thinking.  "But  it  is  your  duty  to 
your  daughters  to  face  it  squarely,  and  if  possible,  to  let 
it  help  you  in  preparing  them  to  meet  the  world.  They 
may,  if  they  will,  find  evil  everywhere ;  they  may  avoid  it 
anywhere.  Frances,  with  her  marvellous  beauty,  is  sure  to 
meet  good  fortune  at  court,  and  good  fortune  is  a  great 
moral  preservative  of  women." 

"Bad  doctrine,  Ned,  bad  doctrine,"  said  my  uncle,  shak- 
ing his  head. 

"But  good  truth,"  I  answered.  "Vice,  like  disease, 
breeds  best  in  poverty." 

"You  have  just  admitted  that  Whitehall  is  a  nest  of 
vice.  Wealth  has  not  prevented  it  there,"  returned  my 
uncle,  beating  me  in  the  argument  for  a  moment. 

But  I  soon  rallied:  "Wealth  will  not  help  those  who 
want  to  go  wrong,  but  it  has  saved  many  a  woman  who 
wanted  to  be  good.  However,  all  this  argument  is  imper- 
tinent. Frances  is  strong,  and  she  is  good,  and  you  may 
rest  your  mind  of  all  fear  that  she  will  ever  be  otherwise. 
Hers  is  not  only  the  virtue  of  goodness,  but  of  stubbornness 
and  pride." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  nephew,"  returned  my  uncle, 
smiling  for  the  first  time  that  evening.  "Stubbornness  is  a 
good  thing  in  a  woman,  and  my  Frances  has  a  store  of  it 
that  might  surprise  one  knowing  her  but  slightly." 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  "And  now,  while  her  beauty  is  reach- 
ing its  climax,  is  the  time  for  her  to  make  the  most  of  it. 
c 


i8  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

I  know  the  world,  uncle,  and  I  know  the  court,  only  too 
well,  I  am  ashamed  to  say.  But  above  all,  I  know  my 
cousin,  and  knowing  also  the  evil  state  of  your  fortune,  I 
unhesitatingly  urge  you  to  seize  the  opportunity  presented 
by  the  Duchess  of  York.  She  is  a  good  woman  and  my 
dear  friend.  Frances  will  be  under  her  care  and  mine. 
Of  my  care  I  need  not  boast.  It  shall  be  that  of  a  brother. 
But  Frances  will  need  no  one's  care  for  long.  She  will 
soon  find  a  husband,  rich  and  of  high  rank,  and  then  — " 

" Would  you  send  my  girl  out  angling  for  a  husband?" 
asked  Sir  Richard. 

"Yes,  if  you  insist  on  putting  it  so,"  I  replied.  "What 
is  every  girl  doing  ?  What  else  is  every  good  mother  doing 
for  her  daughter?  Marriage  is  the  one  way  in  which  a 
gentlewoman  may  find  settlement  in  life.  Frances  has  no 
mother.  Let  us  help  her  to  win  the  happiness  she  deserves. 
'Angling'  is  an  ugly  word,  and  in  Frances's  case  is  not  the 
right  one.  Great  men  and  rich  men  will  soon  be  angling 
for  her.  Let  us  place  her  where  the  bait  is  worth  taking. 
Let  us  not  mince  matters,  but  admit  between  ourselves  that 
we  are  sending  Frances  to  court  to  make  a  good  marriage. 
No  one  less  than  a  rich  duke  or  a  wealthy  earl  will  satisfy 
me.  If  you  wish  to  allow  a  mere  jealous  fear  in  your  heart 
to  blight  her  prospects,  she  will  be  the  sufferer,  and  hereafter 
may  thank  your  folly  for  her  misfortune." 

Sir  Richard  remained  silent  a  moment  or  two  and  then 
spoke  tremulously:  "The  saddest  thing  about  age  is  its 
hesitancy,  its  doubts,  its  fears."  Here  the  tears  began  to 
stream  down  the  old  man's  cheek  as  he  continued :  "Through 
all  my  misfortunes  Frances  has  been  my  joy,  my  solace. 
Sarah  is  a  good  daughter,  but  she  lacks  the  ineffable  tender- 
ness, the  calm,  ready  sympathy  of  her  sister.  If  evil  were 
to  befall  Frances,  my  heart  would  break  —  break."  He 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  sobbed,  murmuring  as 


DAUGHTERS  AND   POVERTY  19 

though  to  himself :  "My  God,  I  fear  !  I  fear  !  She  is  my 
all  —  all !  The  king  has  taken  everything  else,  and  now 
you  ask  me  to  give  her  to  him." 

A  great  lump  came  to  my  throat,  but  in  a  moment  I  was 
able  to  say:  "Do  not  fear,  uncle,  do  not  fear!  Rather, 
rejoice  !  Let  me  be  your  staff,  your  courage,  your  strength  ! 
Think  it  over  till  morning,  and  then  give  your  consent  with 
the  full  assurance  that  it  will  mean  happiness  for  the  girl 
whom  you  and  I  so  dearly  love." 

The  old  man  rose,  took  my  hand,  held  it  in  his  feeble  grasp 
for  a  moment,  and  went  to  his  room  without  another  word. 

As  I  was  going  down  the  narrow  passageway  to  my  bed- 
room, Frances  opened  her  door  and  asked:  "What  does 
father  say  ?  I  know  it  almost  kills  him." 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  "But  he  will  consent  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

Tears  came  to  her  eyes  and  she  gave  me  her  hand,  say- 
ing: "Thank  you,  brother  Ned.  We  are  wounding  him 
only  for  his  own  sake.  If  it  were  not  to  help  him,  all  the 
wealth  in  the  world  would  not  tempt  me  to  give  him  this 
pain  nor  to  go  to  Whitehall,  for  I  fear  the  place." 

As  she  stood  at  the  door,  candle  in  hand,  her  low-cut  gown 
exposing  her  beautiful  throat  with  its  strong  full  curves,  its 
gleaming  whiteness  and  the  pulsing  hollow  at  the  base,  her 
marvellous  hair  of  sunlit  gold  hanging  in  two  thick  braids 
to  below  her  waist,  her  sweet  oval  face  of  snowy  whiteness, 
underlaid  with  the  faint  pink  of  roses,  her  great  luminous 
eyes  with  their  arched  and  pencilled  brows,  and  the  tears 
pendant  from  the  long  black  lashes,  I  could  not  help  know- 
ing that  there  was  not  in  all  Whitehall  beauty  to  compare 
with  hers.  And  when  her  full  red  lips  parted  in  a  tearful 
smile,  showing  a  gleam  of  ivory  between  their  curving  lines, 
I  knew  that  if  our  king  were  an  unmarried  man,  she  could 
be  our  queen,  but  barring  that  high  estate,  I  felt  sure  that 


20     THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

a  score  of  titles  and  great  fortunes  would  lie  at  her  feet  before 
she  had  been  a  month  in  Whitehall.  That  is,  I  knew  all 
this  would  happen  if  she  kept  her  head.  The  king  himself 
would  be  her  greatest  danger,  for  in  a  way,  he  was  handsome 
of  person  when  he  kept  his  mouth  closed,  and  even  a  little 
beauty  in  a  king,  like  a  candlelight  in  a  distant  window, 
shines  with  magnified  radiance. 

I  went  to  bed  that  night  having  great  faith  in  my  cousin's 
strength  and  discretion,  but  my  confidence  was  to  receive  a 
shock  the  next  day. 


CHAPTER  II 
A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE 

AFTER  breakfast  the  following  morning,  while  Sir 
Richard  and  I  were  sipping  our  morning  draught 
in  the  dingy  little  library,  he  brought  up  the  subject 
of  the  night  before. 

"As  you  justly  observed,  Baron  Ned,"  my  uncle  began, 
restraining  his  emotion  as  best  he  could,  "sooner  or  later 
my  daughters  will  have  to  face  the  world  alone.  I  am  of  no 
help  to  them  now,  and  perhaps  shall  be  no  loss  when  I  am 
gone,  but  it  is  like  taking  the  heart  out  of  me  to  send  my 
beautiful  girl  to  this  unholy  king ;  the  wickedest  man  in  the 
vilest  court  on  earth.  But  it  must  be  done.  God  help  me 
and  save  her !" 

"I  will  not  go  ! "  cried  Frances,  running  into  the  room  from 
the  hallway,  and  kneeling  by  her  father's  chair. 

"I  fear  you  must,  Frances,"  answered  Sir  Richard. 
"There,  there,  we'll  say  it  is  settled  and  let  it  rest  a  few  days, 
so  that  we  may  grow  used  to  the  thought  before  making  our 
plans  in  detail." 

After  dinner  I  missed  Frances,  and  when  I  asked  Sarah 
where  she  had  gone,  I  received  answer  in  one  word :  "Walk- 
ing." 

"Alone  ? "  I  asked.     Sarah  smiled. 

In  a  moment  I  said,  "I  think  I,  too,  shall  go  walking." 

"The  Bourne  Path  is  pretty,"  suggested  Sarah. 

"Will  you  come  with  me ?"  I  asked. 

21 


22  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Again  Sarah  smiled,  shaking  her  head  for  answer,  and  I  set 
off,  taking  my  way  down  the  path  which  wound  beside  a 
rocky  bourne,  a  distance  of  several  miles  in  the  direction  of 
Hamilton  House,  one  of  the  country  places  of  Count  Hamil- 
toa 

When  I  reached  a  point  perhaps  half  a  league  from  Sun- 
dridge,  I  saw  a  lady  and  gentleman  walking  leisurely  ahead 
of  me.  Her  hand  was  on  his  arm,  and  his  head  was  bent 
toward  her,  evidently  in  earnest  conversation.  Her  head 
drooped  prettily,  indicating  a  listening  mood,  and  the  two 
seemed  very  much  like  lovers  in  the  early  wooing  stage.  At 
once  I  recognized  the  beautiful  figure  of  my  cousin  Frances. 
The  gentleman  I  did  not  know,  seeing  only  his  back,  though 
there  was  something  familiar  to  me  in  the  tall,  straight  form, 
the  broad  shoulders,  and  the  graceful  carriage  of  the  head. 
He  was  a  cavalier,  every  inch  of  him,  from  his  long,  dark, 
slightly  curling  hair  to  the  golden  buckles  on  his  shoes. 
He  carried  his  beaver  hat  in  his  hand,  dragging  the  rich 
plume  on  the  ground. 

I  hastened  forward,  but  they  were  so  interested  in  each 
other  that  they  did  not  know  of  my  presence  till  I  asked  :  — 

"Cousin,  won't  you  introduce  me?" 

Frances  turned  with  a  little  scream,  and  the  gentleman 
spun  around  quickly,  putting  on  his  hat  and  dropping  my 
cousin's  hand,  which  he  had  been  holding.  At  first  my  sur- 
prise deprived  me  of  the  power  to  think,  but  soon  I  recovered 
self-control,  and  said  :  - 

"Ah,  there  is  no  need  to  introduce  me,  cousin.  I  already 
know  Master  Hamilton." 

"Yes,"  stammered  the  gentleman,  holding  out  his  hand, 
"Baron  Ned  and  I  know  each  other  well." 

I  did  not  take  his  hand,  and  when  I  saw  anger  mounting 
to  his  eyes,  I  explained  with  the  best  smile  at  my  com- 
mand :  — 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  23 

"I  do  not  take  your  hand,  sir,  because  I  have  that  to  say 
to  my  cousin  which  will  greatly  displease  you.  I  am  glad 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  saying  it  in  your  presence,  as  I 
dislike  speaking  ill  of  a  man  behind  his  back." 

"You  need  speak  no  ill  of  Master  Hamilton  either  in  his 
presence  or  behind  his  back,  if  you  intend  to  do  so  on  my 
account,"  interrupted  Frances,  throwing  back  her  head 
defiantly. 

But  I  was  not  to  be  halted  in  my  duty.  Here  was  a  future 
duchess  in  danger  of  being  lost  to  the  world  for  the  sake  of  a 
vicious,  penniless  gambler,  having  neither  title,  estates,  nor 
character. 

"I  do  not  ask  your  permission,  cousin,"  I  answered,  bow- 
ing and  smiling,  for  it  is  well  to  keep  one's  temper  in  such  a 
case.  "What  I  shall  say  is  the  truth,  word  for  word,  and 
Master  Hamilton  himself  shall  be  the  arbiter." 

"Speaking  the  truth  may  be  a  great  impertinence,"  re- 
marked Frances,  trying  to  hide  her  anger  under  an  air  of 
carelessness. 

"True,"  I  returned.  "And  what  I  have  to  say  will  con- 
firm your  position.  Shall  I  speak  now  before  Master  Hamil- 
ton, or  shall  I  say  what  I  have  to  say  in  your  father's  pres- 
ence and  send  to  Master  Hamilton  later  a  full  account  of 
my  remarks  ?  " 

"For  my  part,  sir,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  whatever  you 
have  to  say  now,"  interrupted  Hamilton,  with  an  angry 
gleam  in  his  eyes  and  a  poor  attempt  at  a  smile  playing 
about  his  mouth. 

I  would  say  here  that  I  was  confronting  one  of  the  bravest 
men  in  England  and  one  of  the  best  swordsmen  in  the  world. 
While  he  was  not  prone  to  seek  a  quarrel,  be  certainly  had 
never  avoided  one  because  of  fear  of  his  antagonist. 

I  took  advantage  of  my  cousin's  silence  and,  turning  to 
Hamilton,  said  :  "If  I  speak  one  work  of  untruth,  you  are  at 


24  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

liberty  to  give  me  the  lie."  Then  turning  to  Frances,  I  con- 
tinued: "What  I  have  to  say,  cousin,  is  this,  Master 
Hamilton  is  one  of  the  most  disreputable  men  at  court." 

Frances  drew  back,  startled,  and  Hamilton  grasped  his 
sword  hilt,  drawing  the  blade  half  from  its  scabbard. 

I  bowed,  smiled,  and  said  :  "Tut,  tut,  Hamilton  !  A  lady 
should  never  see  a  naked  sword  blade.  Later,  later,  of 
course,  at  your  pleasure !  I  shall  be  found  at  my  uncle's 
house  in  Sundridge  during  the  next  three  or  four  days. 
After  that  you  know  my  lodgings  in  the  Wardrobe  at  White- 
hall. I  shall  be  delighted  to  receive  your  messenger,  if  it  is 
your  pleasure,  after  you  have  heard  what  I  have  to  say." 

His  sword  disappeared,  and  his  smile  broadened  to  a  grim 
laugh:  "You're  right,  baron.  Pardon  my  haste.  There's 
ample  time,  ample  time." 

Turning  to  my  cousin,  I  took  up  my  thread:  "Master 
Hamilton  is  penniless,  which  is  no  small  failing  in  itself. 
Therefore  he  lives  by  gambling,  which  might  be  excusable  if 
he  did  not  cheat.  In  gambling,  you  know,  cousin,  the  mere 
law  of  chance  will  not  put  much  money  in  a  man's  purse. 
Good  luck  is  but  another  name  for  skill  in  trickery.  If  one 
would  thrive  by  cards  and  dice,  one  must  be  a  thief." 

There  was  another  angry  movement  by  Hamilton,  which 
I  interrupted,  smiling,  bowing,  and  saying,  "Let  us  talk 
this  matter  over  calmly,  smilingly,  if  possible." 

"I'll  smile  when  I  can,"  returned  Hamilton,  made  more 
angry,  if  that  were  possible,  by  a  paradoxical  inclination  to 
laugh.  "Proceed,  baron,  proceed!  I  am  becoming  in- 
terested in  myself." 

Frances  gave  a  nervous  little  laugh,  looked  first  to 
Hamilton,  then  to  me  and  back  again,  as  though  she  would 
ask  what  it  all  meant,  and  I  continued :  — 

"As  I  have  said,  Frances,  Master  Hamilton  and  his 
friends  live  by  cheating  at  cards  and  other  games  in  a 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  25 

manner  to  make  all  decent  men  avoid  play  with  them. 
They  pluck  strangers  and  feather  their  purses  from  new 
geese  who  do  not  know  their  methods.  They  also  derive 
considerable  revenue  from  passe  women  who  have  more 
wealth  than  beauty,  are  more  brazen  than  modest,  and 
more  generous  than  chaste." 

"I'll  not  listen  to  another  word!"  exclaimed  Frances, 
looking  up  to  Hamilton  in  evident  wonder  at  his  com- 
placency. 

"Just  one  moment  longer,  Frances,"  I  insisted.  "  Master 
Hamilton's  intimate  friends  have  been  known  on  more 
than  one  occasion  to  stoop  to  the  crimes  of  theft,  robbery, 
and  even  murder  to  obtain  money,  and  have  escaped 
punishment  only  because  of  royal  favor.  I  do  not  say 
that  Master  Hamilton  has  ever  participated  in  these 
crimes,  but  he  knew  of  them,  did  not  condemn  them, 
helped  the  criminals  to  escape  justice,  and  retained  the 
guilty  men  as  his  associates  and  nearest  friends.  Add  to 
this  list  the  fact  that  Hamilton  is  a  roue  and  a  libertine, 
to  whom  virtue  is  but  a  jest,  and  with  whom  no  pure 
woman,  knowing  him,  would  be  seen  alone,  and  I  believe 
I  have  drawn  a  picture  of  a  man  who  is  in  no  way  fit  to  be 
your  companion  in  a  lonely  stroll.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
is  a  brave  man,  a  generous  enemy,  a  staunch  friend,  and  a 
ready  help  at  all  times  to  the  needy.  Now  I  have  finished 
what  has  been  a  disagreeable  though  imperative  duty. 
Doubtless  it  has  been  disagreeable  to  you,  also,  Master 
Hamilton,  but — " 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  interrupted,  in  low  tones,  and 
with  bowed  head. 

"But,  of  course,  I  am  ready  to  stand  by  my  words,"  I 
continued.  "And  now,  sir,  you  may,  if  you  wish,  say  to 
Mistress  Jennings  that  I  have  lied.  Doubtless  she  will 
believe  you,  in  which  case  it  shall  be  my  pleasure  to  send  a 


26     THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

messenger  to  you,  thereby  saving  you  the  trouble  of  sending 
one  to  me." 

I  put  on  my  hat  and  awaited  his  reply.  His  hat  was  in 
his  hand,  and  his  face  was  bent  toward  the  ground,  his  air 
of  ironical  politeness  having  left  him.  Frances  turned  to 
him  and  was  about  to  speak,  but,  noticing  the  peculiar  ex- 
pression in  his  face  and  attitude,  remained  silent.  After  a 
long  pause  Hamilton  spoke  without  lifting  his  eyes :  — 

"I  suppose  no  other  man  ever  received  such  an  arraign- 
ment in  cold  blood  as  I  have  just  heard  from  Baron  Clyde." 
Then  turning  hesitatingly  to  my  cousin,  "But  I  am  sorry 
to  say  it  is  true,  Mistress  Jennings,  true  in  every  word." 

He  looked  into  my  eyes,  again  bowed  his  head,  and  spoke 
after  a  long  silence:  "Baron  Ned,  I  can  almost  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  thank  you  for  having  done  your  duty  so 
bravely.  I  have  known  for  some  time  that  I  am  not  fit 
to  be  this  lady's  companion  and  that  I  have  no  right  to 
seek  her  friendship." 

I  bowed  low,  without  speaking,  and  after  another  long 
pause  he  looked  up  to  me  again  as  he  asked :  — 

"Now  will  you  take  my  hand?" 

"Gladly,  George,"  I  answered,  giving  him  my  hand, 
which  he  held  for  a  moment  and  dropped  without  a  word, 
a  strange  smile  playing  about  his  lips. 

Naturally  enough,  Frances  was  at  a  loss  how  to  act. 
Tears  of  vexation  came  to  her  eyes,  and  she  turned  from 
us  to  dry  them  with  her  handkerchief.  She  failed  to  find 
the  handkerchief,  so  she  turned  to  George,  who,  seeing  her 
need,  drew  it  from  his  pocket  where  she  h&d  left  it  for  safe- 
keeping. The  first  favor  a  young  girl  shows  to  a  man  when 
she  finds  herself  in  a  "coming  on  disposition"  is  to  hide 
some  of  her  intimate  personal  belongings  in  his  pocket. 
The  little  incident  of  the  handkerchief  caused  us  all  to 
laugh  and  went  a  long  way  toward  making  us  easy. 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  27 

Hamilton's  frankness  had  taken  part  of  the  wind  out  of 
my  sails,  and  his  open  confession  had  at  least  paved  the 
way  for  absolution,  which  I  feared  might  be  followed  by 
disastrous  results,  since  to  forgive  always  makes  the  heart 
grow  fonder. 

Presently  Hamilton  turned  to  Frances,  saying:  "You 
may  better  appreciate  your  cousin's  fidelity  to  your  interest 
when  I  tell  you  that  in  speaking  thus  frankly  to  you,  he 
placed  himself  in  danger  of  two  misfortunes,  both  of  which, 
probably,  he  felt  sure  would  befall  him.  Please  do  not 
think  that  I  boast,  but  it  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  my 
sword  point  is  considered  one  of  the  most  dangerous  in 
England.  Doubtless  Baron  Ned  expected  to  be  called 
upon  to  stand  by  his  words.  Furthermore,  he  is  a  suitor 
for  my  sister's  hand,  as  you  may  know,  and  of  late  has 
sought  my  friendship,  in  part,  no  doubt,  for  the  purpose  of 
forwarding  his  cause." 

At  this  point  he  turned  toward  me  and  smiled.  I,  too, 
smiled,  though  not  joyously,  for  I  thought  surely  this 
affair  would  ruin  all  my  chances  with  Mary. 

"Therefore,"  continued  Hamilton,  "he  had  much  to  lose 
in  arraigning  me,  and  nothing  to  gain  but  your  welfare. 
You  must  see  that  it  was  unselfishly  done.  If  there  is 
gratitude  in  your  heart,  give  it  here."  He  placed  his  hand 
on  my  shoulder  and,  after  a  long  pause  and  an  apparent 
effort,  finished  what  he  had  to  say:  "Forget  me.  I  am 
unworthy  to  speak  your  name  or  to  have  the  great  joy  of 
hearing  you  speak  mine." 

This  was  taking  the  wind  out  of  my  sails  at  a  great  rate. 
In  truth,  it  was  taking  the  sails  themselves,  though  I  be- 
lieved he  was  not  speaking  for  sake  of  the  advantage.  In  a 
moment  he  bowed  low,  sweeping  the  plume  of  his  hat  in  the 
dust,  saying  as  he  left  us :  — 

"Farewell,  Mistress  Jennings,  and  thank  you,  Baron  Ned. 


28  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

You  say  I  am  a  staunch  friend.  You  have  still  to  learn  the 
whole  truth  of  your  praise." 

Turning  instantly,  he  hastened  away  from  us  down  the 
Bourne  Path,  and  though  we  waited  for  him  to  look  back, 
he  disappointed  us,  and  soon  was  lost  as  he  passed  beyond  a 
bend.  Frances  was  weeping  gently,  and  I,  too,  felt  a  lump  in 
my  throat,  not  because  of  what  I  had  said  or  done,  but  be- 
cause of  the  unexpected  good  I  had  found  in  Hamilton, 
whom  I  had  always  liked ;  good,  which  up  to  that  time  I  had 
never  suspected,  having  always  seen  him  in  the  shadow  of  a 
throne. 

When  Hamilton  had  disappeared,  I  asked  Frances  if  we 
should  return  to  Sundridge,  and  she  answering  by  a  nod, 
we  started  home,  each  of  us  heavy-hearted,  one  of  us  weep- 
ing pathetically.  Her  heart  had  just  received  its  first  sharp 
blow,  and  I  pitied  her,  for  the  first  one  hurts. 

After  walking  a  little  way  in  silence,  I  remarked,  "There 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  add  to  your  father's  troubles  by 
telling  him  of  this  affair." 

"Nor  Sarah,"  sobbed  Frances.  " She  is  like  a  wasp  —  all 
sting."  After  a  long  pause  devoted  to  drying  her  eyes,  she 
continued,  "But  it  has  not  been  much  of  an  affair." 

"I  am  not  asking  what  it  has  been,  Frances,"  I  returned, 
speaking  tenderly,  for  I  knew  her  heart  was  sore.  "I  have 
no  right  to  ask." 

"Yes,  you  have  the  right  to  ask,"  she  replied,  earnestly. 
"  You  have  earned  it  to-day,  if  never  before.  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it.  You  see  I  did  not  know  —  I  did  not  think  it  pos- 
sible —  that  he  was  the  evil  person  you  described.  To  me 
he  seemed  as  high-minded  as  he  was  gallant  and  handsome." 

"He  is  high-minded  in  many  respects,"  I  said,  "and  might 
have  been  a  decent  man  in  all  respects  had  he  lived  under 
other  conditions.  He  is  far  the  best  of  what  is  known  at 
court  as  'the  Royal  Clique,'  and  is  an  angel  of  goodness  com- 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  29 

pared  with  the  king  and  his  despicable  son,  James  Crofts, 
Duke  of  Monmouth.  Do  you  want  to  tell  me  where  and 
how  you  met  Hamilton  ?" 

After  a  moment's  silence  she  began  her  pathetic  little 
narrative,  hesitating  at  first,  but  gathering  courage  as  she 
spoke :  — 

"I  first  saw  him  on  the  street  in  St.  Albans,  more  than  a 
month  ago.  Of  course  I  did  not  look  directly  at  him,  but 
I  saw  him  and  knew  that  he  was  looking  at  me.  I  have  been 
used  to  being  stared  at  by  men  since  I  was  a  child  of  twelve 
—  I  am  past  eighteen  now,  you  know  —  and  learned  long 
ago  not  to  resent  an  impertinence  which  is  alike  unavoid- 
able and,  in  a  poor  way,  flattering.  But  there  was  this  differ- 
ence :  when  he  stared  at  me  I  blush  to  say  I  liked  it,  nor 
should  I  have  repulsed  him  had  he  spoken  to  me.  He  was 
the  first  man  I  had  ever  seen  that  had  really  attracted  me. 
You  are  not  a  woman,  therefore  you  cannot  understand  me 
fully.  You  see,  a  man  goes  to  a  woman ;  a  woman  is  drawn 
to  a  man,  usually,  I  suppose,  against  her  will.  I  know  little 
about  the  subject,  this  being  my  first,  and,  I  hope,  my  last 
experience,  but  — " 

"And  I,  too,  hope,"  I  interrupted. 

"Yes,"  she  continued  quickly.  "But  do  you  know  I  can 
almost  understand  the  feeble,  hopeless  resistance  which  the 
iron  tries  to  exert  against  the  magnet.  But,  cousin  Ned, 
it  is  powerless." 

Here  she  brought  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  I 
exclaimed  regretfully,  "Oh,  Frances,  I  am  surprised  and 
sorry  !  " 

"Yes,  yes  !  I,  too,  was  surprised,  and  was  so  sorry  that  I 
wept  through  the  whole  night  following  my  first  sight  of  him, 
and  between  shame  for  what  I  felt  and  longing  to  see  him 
again,  I  suffered  terribly.  I  prayed  for  strength  against  this, 
my  first  temptation,  and  then  my  heart  shrunk  in  fear  lest 


30  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

I  should  never  again  be  tempted.  The  next  day  I  walked 
out  on  the  Bourne  Path  toward  Hamilton  House  and  met 
him.  To  my  shame  I  confess  that  I  looked  at  him.  He 
stopped,  bowed  low  before  me,  and  asked  if  he  might  intro- 
duce himself,  since  there  was  no  one  else  to  do  that  office  for 
him.  He  said  that  soon  Lord  St.  Albans  would  be  up  from 
London  and  would  introduce  him  to  my  father.  But  having 
seen  me  the  day  before  at  St.  Albans,  he  was  unable  to  wait ; 
therefore,  he  was  at  that  moment  on  his  way  to  Sundridge, 
hoping  to  see  me.  He  seemed  confused  and  shy,  but  from 
what  you  say,  I  fear  he  was  not." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  was,"  I  interrupted,  in  fine  irony.  " George 
Hamilton  is  as  shy  and  as  modest  as  the  devil  himself." 

"I  fear  it  is  true,"  she  answered^  smiling  faintly  and 
sighing. 

I  could  see  plainly  that  she  didf  not  Took  upon  satamc 
modesty  as  a  serious  fault  in  itself,  and  I  fear  it  is  not 
objectionable  to  her  sex.  It  is  the  manner  of  brazenness 
more  than  the  fact  which  is  offensive.  George's  modest- 
faced  boldness  was  both  alluring  and  dangerous. 

As  she  progressed  she  grew  eager  in  her  narrative,  and 
after  two  or  three  false  starts,  continued:  "Then  he  said 
that  Count  Hamilton,  our  neighbor,  was  his  brother.  I 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  presently  was  so  foolish  as 
to  say  that  I  had  seen  him  at  St.  Albans  and  had  asked  a 
shopkeeper  who  he  was.  You  see  I  was  confused.  I  had 
not  at  all  intended  to  say  that  I  had  seen  him,  and  certainly 
would  have  concealed  the  fact  that  I  had  asked  about  him. 
But  I  said  what  I  said  because  I  could  not  help  it." 

"On  that  ground  it  may  be  excusable,"  I  suggested. 

"No,  no,"  she  protested.  "It  can  be  excused  on  no 
grounds.  But  I  did  it,  and  it  can't  be  helped  now.  With- 
out waiting  for  permission,  he  turned,  and  we  walked 
together  almost  to  Hamilton  House.  I  suppose,  under  the 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  31 

circumstances,  he  considered  it  best  not  to  ask  for  a  per- 
mission which  might  have  been  refused,  and  from  his 
standpoint  doubtless  he  was  right.  Take  without  asking 
seems  to  be  man's  best  method  with  woman.  When  I  saw 
we  were  approaching  Hamilton  House,  I  turned  about  for 
home,  hoping,  yet  fearing,  that  he  would  not  go  back  with 
me.  But  he  did." 

"Yes,  you  were  sure  to  be  disappointed  in  that  respect," 
I  answered.  And  she  continued  hastily :  — 

"Yes,  he  walked  all  the  way  with  me.  Before  reaching 
Sundridge  stile,  I  asked  him  to  leave  me.  That  was  an- 
other mistake,  for  it  gave  to  our  meeting  a  clandestine 
appearance.  He  said  my  word  was  law  to  him,  and  that 
he  would  obey,  though  to  do  so,  that  is,  to  leave  me,  was 
pain,  you  understand." 

"Yes,  I  can  understand  that  he  did  not  want  to  leave 
you,"  I  answered.  But  I  saw  that  she  had  not  finished, 
so  I  remained  silent,  and  in  a  moment  she  continued :  — 

"He  had  been  so  respectful  to  me  throughout  that  I 
thought  him  a  modest,  well-behaved  gentleman,  and  — " 

I  laughed,  interrupting  her  to  explain  :  "All  art,  Frances, 
all  art.  You'll  find  much  of  that  manufactured  modesty 
at  court.  It  is  the  trump  card  in  the  game  of  love  and  is 
but  a  cloak  for  brazenness." 

"Yes,  I  so  found  it,"  she  answered,  drooping  her  head, 
"for  when  he  was  about  to  leave  me  at  a  secluded  spot, 
he  took  my  hand  and  would  have  kissed  me  without  so 
much  as  'By  your  leave/  had  I  not  caught  his  intent  before 
it  was  too  late.  I  drew  away,  inclined  to  be  angry,  and 
said,  'Sir,  one  may  overrun  one's  course  by  going  too 
fast.'" 

"That  truism,  under  like  circumstances  at  court,  would 
have  made  you  famous,"  I  said,  pleased  alike  with  her 
naivete  and  her  wisdom. 


32  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"I  tried,  with  fair  success,  to  appear  offended,"  she 
continued,  blushing  deeply,  "but  the  awful  truth  certainly 
is  that  I  was  not.  I  suppose  it  is  true  that  women  like 
boldness  and  do  not  find  wickedness  in  men  as  distasteful 
as  mothers  say  it  is." 

"On  the  contrary,"  I  remarked,  growing  more  and  more 
delighted  with  her  wisdom,  innocence,  and  candor. 

"Yes,"  she  continued,  blushing  exquisitely,  "even  since 
you  have  told  me  how  wicked  he  is,  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
like  him  less,  though  I  fear  him  and  shall  avoid  him  as  I 
should  a  pestilence." 

"Ah,  but  will  you,  can  you,  Frances?"  I  asked. 

"Indeed,  yes,  brother  Ned,  and  if  you  doubt  me,  you 
don't  know  me,"  she  returned. 

"But  do  you  know  yourself?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  now  I  do,  thanks  to  your  bravery,"  she  answered. 

"But  you  saw  him  many  times  after  his  first  bold 
attempt,"  I  suggested. 

"Oh,  it  was  easily  forgiven,"  she  returned,  naively. 
"Yes,  I  have  met  him  almost  every  day  since  then.  The 
days  I  did  not  see  him  seemed  to  be  blanks  in  my  life. 
After  his  first  boldness,  he  was  always  courteous.  He 
never  again  became  familiar,  but  seemed  to  try  only  to 
convince  me  of  his  regard  in  most  respectful  terms,  and  — 
and  I  listened  all  too  willingly,  but  made  no  answer  save 
what  I  could  not  conceal  in  my  manner.  That,  I  fear, 
was  answer  all  too  plain.  But  now  you  have  opened  my 
eyes,  and  I  see  clearly.  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  I 
can  never  repay." 

"If  you  go  to  court,  this  affair  will  have  been  a  good 
lesson,"  I  returned  encouragingly.  "For  there  you  must 
learn  to  despise  the  proffered  love  of  men,  whether  it  be 
pretended  or  real,  until  one  comes  who  is  worthy  of  you 
in  person,  wealth,  and  station," 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  33 

"Yes,  I  shall,"  she  answered  earnestly.  "But  here  we 
are  at  home.  As  you  suggest,  let  us  not  speak  of  this  poor 
little  affair." 

"By  no  means,"  I  answered,  as  I  opened  the  gate. 

"And  Baron  Ned,"  she  said,  holding  me  back  for  a  mo- 
ment, "have  no  fear  that  I  shall  lose  my  heart  at  court  to 
the  detriment  of  my  fortune.  I  may  not  consider  myself  — 
only  my  father  and  my  house.  It  is  my  duty  to  make  him 
happy,  and  I  am  going  to  do  it  without  regard  to  any  other 
purpose  in  life.  My  having  known  Master  Hamilton 
will  not  only  keep  other  men  out  of  my  heart,  but  will  help 
me  to  know  them  and  will  lead  me  to  fear  them  when  I  go 
to  court." 

Later  in  the  evening  my  cousin  and  I  walked  out  in  town, 
and  I  had  a  long  talk  with  her,  partly  concerning  Hamilton, 
a  theme  to  which  she  always  returned,  and  partly  concerning 
conditions  she  would  meet  if  she  became  a  maid  of  honor. 
And  my  faith  in  her  grew  as  we  talked. 

That  night  I  went  to  sleep  convinced  that  my  beautiful 
cousin  was  strong  enough  and  shrewd  enough  to  evade  all 
the  pitfalls  of  Whitehall,  and  that  her  experience  with  Hamil- 
ton had  been  the  one  thing  needful  to  make  her  keenly  alive 
to  her  danger.  I  felt  that  she  was  safe,  but  — 

Near  the  hour  of  two  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  Sir  Rich- 
ard and  I,  returning  from  a  short  walk,  did  not  find  Frances 
at  home,  so  I  made  my  way  to  the  Bourne  Path,  thinking  it 
hardly  possible  that  in  the  face  of  yesterday's  events  Frances 
could  have  gone  to  meet  Hamilton.  Still  one  can  never  tell ; 
therefore  I  took  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  set  forth  to 
make  sure. 

When  perhaps  two  miles  from  Sundridge,  the  day  being 

warm,  I  climbed  to  a  ledge  of  rock  on  the  shelving  bank  of 

the  bourne,  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  path,  and  sat 

down  to  rest  in  the  cool  shade  of  a  clump  of  bushes,    Below 

P 


34  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

me,  perhaps  five  or  six  feet  above  the  path  and  far  enough 
back  among  the  bushes  to  be  hidden  from  passers-by,  was 
another  rocky  shelf  or  bench,  admirably  fitted  to  accom- 
modate two  persons. 

Sarah  had  told  me,  after  much  questioning,  that  Frances 
had  left  home  only  a  few  minutes  before  Sir  Richard  and  I 
had  returned.  I  had  walked  rapidly,  and  as  I  had  not  over- 
taken her,  I  concluded  I  was  on  the  wrong  scent. 

Within  ten  minutes  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  on  the 
wrong  scent,  for,  much  to  my  surprise,  sorrow,  and  disgust, 
I  saw  Frances  and  Hamilton  come  around  a  turn  in  the  path, 
push  aside  the  bushes  as  though  they  knew  the  place,  enter 
the  dense  thicket  bordering  the  path,  and  sit  down  on  the 
rocky  bench  beneath  me.  My  first  impulse  was  to  speak, 
but  for  many  reasons  I  determined  to  listen.  Silence 
reigned  below  me  during  the  next  minute  or  two,  and  then 
Hamilton  spoke:  — 

"You  must  deem  me  a  coward,  Mistress  Jennings,  since 
I  did  not  call  your  cousin  to  account  for  what  he  said  yester- 
day?" 

"No,"  she  answered.  "It  was  brave  of  you  to  refrain. 
It  must  be  a  great  deal  easier  for  a  gentleman  to  resent  an 
insult  than  to  endure  it.  My  cousin  said  as  much  to  me 
yesterday  evening.  He  said  he  had  always  known  that  you 
were  brave,  but  that  he  had  not  expected  to  find  hi  you  the 
moral  courage  to  bear  his  words  with  equanimity.  He  also 
said  he  was  glad  he  did  not  have  to  meet  you  in  a  duel,  be- 
cause you  were  so  greatly  his  superior  with  the  sword.  It 
was  brave  of  you  not  to  challenge  him.  Perhaps  it  was  on 
my  account  you  desisted." 

"No,  it  was  because  I  respected  him  far  more  than  any 
man  I  have  ever  known,  and  because  he  told  the  truth.  Do 
not  speak  of  my  bravery  in  the  same  breath  with  his.  He 
was  as  cool  as  though  he  were  telling  an  amusing  story." 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  35 

"He  certainly  was,"  returned  Frances,  laughing  softly 
and  closing  with  a  sigh. 

"But  he  had  truth  on  his  side,  and  truth  is  a  great  stimu- 
lant to  courage,"  remarked  Hamilton. 

Frances  sighed  again,  diligently  studying  her  hands  rest- 
ing listlessly  on  her  lap. 

"Yes,  he  told  the  truth,"  continued  Hamilton.  "That  is 
why  I  sent  the  letter  to  you  early  this  morning,  asking  you 
to  meet  me  for  the  last  time  —  the  last  time,  Frances.  This 
is  not  a  mere  promise  to  lure  you  on,  but  the  truth,  for  I  have 
learned  my  lesson  from  Baron  Ned,  and  with  God's  help,  I, 
too,  shall  hereafter  protect  you  from  all  evil,  including  my- 
self. It  is  not  the  Hamilton  of  yesterday  who  is  speaking 
to  you,  but  a  new  man,  born  again  in  the  fierce  light  your 
cousin  threw  upon  me.  I  feared  you  might  resent  his 
effort  to  protect  you,  and  I  wanted  to  tell  you  again  that  he 
spoke  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  that  he  did  his  duty  where 
another  man  less  brave  would  have  failed." 

Frances  sighed  audibly,  and  I  was  sure  her  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears. 

"Hereafter  I  shall  be  as  honest  with  you  and  as  brave  for 
your  welfare  as  Baron  Ned  was  yesterday,"  said  Hamilton, 
his  voice  choking  with  emotion.  "I  see  you  now  for  the 
last  time,  unless — "  He  stopped  speaking  for  a  moment 
and,  taking  her  hand,  continued  hesitatingly,  "Does  the 
thought  pain  you  ?  " 

"I  suppose  I  should  say  no,"  answered  the  girl,  withdraw- 
ing her  hand.  "But  you  see,  I,  too,  have  a  little  moral 
courage,  and,  in  the  face  of  an  inevitable  future,  do  not  fear 
to  say,  yes,  the  greatest  pain  I  have  ever  known." 

He  moved  toward  her  with  evident  intent  to  embrace  her, 
but  she  rose,  saying  calmly,  almost  coldly :  — 

"Master  Hamilton,  do  you  wish  me  to  leave  you?" 

In  Hamilton's  place,  I  should  have  preferred  trying  to 


36  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

embrace  St.  George's  dragon  rather  than  the  girl  standing 
before  him. 

Hamilton  bowed  with  humility  and  said :  "Please  do  not 
fear.  Sit  down  and  hear  me  out.  I  shall  not  detain  you 
long." 

She  sat  down,  seeming  to  feel  that  notwithstanding  her 
recent  admission,  there  was  no  danger  of  further  unseemly 
demonstration  on  Hamilton's  part. 

"I  want  to  say,"  continued  Hamilton,  "that  while  Baron 
Ned  spoke  the  truth,  I  have  never  been  guilty  of  the  crimes 
which  it  is  said  some  of  my  friends  have  committed.  I  am 
unworthy  enough  in  every  respect,  but  I  am  innocent  of 
murder  and  robbery.  I  shall  mend  my  ways  from  now  on. 
I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  in  me,  but  when  I  am  at  all  worthy 
of  your  kind  regard,  I  shall  tell  you,  and  you  may  believe 
me,  for  from  this  day  forth  I  shall  try  to  be  as  truthful  as 
Baron  Ned.  No  man  can  be  more  so." 

Frances  sighed  and  answered,  "I  hope  so." 

Hamilton  again  took  her  hand,  which  she  now  permitted 
him  to  retain,  and  continued :  "If  I  am  ever  so  fortunate 
as  to  gain  wealth  and  position  worthy  of  you,  I  shall  kneel 
at  your  feet,  if  you  are  free  to  hear  me.  If  the  good  for- 
tune never  comes,  this  will  be  our  farewell." 

"I  hope  the  good  fortune  will  come  soon,  for  your  sake, 
and  — "  But  she  did  not  finish. 

"Yes,  yes,  and  —  and  —  ?"  asked  George,  pleadingly. 

"Yes,  and  for  my  own  sake,"  she  answered,  turning  her 
face  from  him,  probably  to  hide  the  tears  that  were  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  shall  see  that  good  fortune  does  come,"  said  he,  "but 
I  do  not  ask  you  to  wait  an  hour  for  it.  If  happiness  comes 
to  you  in  the  right  man  —  I  cannot  finish.  Good-by  ! " 

He  rose,  bent  over  her,  kissed  her  hand,  and  was  about 
to  leave  her  hastily,  evidently  in  fear  of  himself.  But  she 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  37 

clung  to  his  hand  and,  drawing  him  down  to  her,  offered 
him  her  lips.  At  first  he  seemed  to  draw  away,  but  unable 
to  resist,  caught  her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her,  and  fled. 

Frances  thrust  aside  the  bushes  and  watched  him  as  he 
walked  rapidly  down  the  path.  When  he  turned,  just  before 
reaching  the  bend,  she  kissed  her  hand  to  him,  murmuring 
as  though  speaking  to  herself,  "  Good-by,  good-by  ! "  Then 
she  sat  down  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

After  a  short  time  she  rose,  dried  her  eyes,  and  started 
home,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  climbed  the  hill  and  took  a 
short  cut  to  Sundridge.  I  reached  home  before  Frances,  and, 
notwithstanding  all  I  had  seen,  was  fully  convinced  that  she 
would  be  as  safe  in 'Whitehall  Court  as  in  her  father's  house. 

That  evening  Frances  and  I  walked  out  together,  and  I, 
feeling  stricken  in  conscience,  confessed  that  I  had  witnessed 
the  interview  between  her  and  Hamilton.  She  was  surprised, 
and  at  first  was  inclined  to  be  angry,  but  she  had  so  little 
vindictiveness  in  her  nature  and  was  so  gentle  of  disposition 
that  her  ill-temper  was  but  the  shadow  of  anger,  and  soon 
passed  away.  Then,  too,  her  good  common  sense,  of  which 
she  had  an  ample  fund,  came  to  her  help  and  told  her  that 
whatever  I  had  done  was  for  her  own  good.  So  the  rare 
smile,  which  was  one  of  her  greatest  charms,  came  to  her 
face,  like  the  diaphanous  glow  of  a  good  spirit,  rested  for  a 
moment  on  her  lips,  mounted  to  her  eyes  and  faded  slowly 
away,  as  though  it  would  linger  a  moment  to  ask  my  for- 
giveness. 

"I  am  glad  I  witnessed  the  interview,"  said  I,  drawing  her 
hand  through  my  arm  to  reassure  her,  "for  notwithstanding 
all  that  happened,  I  now  feel  sure  you  are  to  be  trusted." 

"But  am  I?"  she  asked,  showing  a  self-doubt  which  I 
wished  to  remove. 

"Yes,  you  will  have  no  greater  trial  at  court  than  the  one 


38  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

through  which  you  have  just  passed.  You  have  combated 
successfully  not  only  your  own  love,  but  the  love  of  the  man 
you  love." 

"Ah,  Baron  Ned,  don't !"  she  exclaimed,  in  mild  reproach, 
shrinking  from  the  thought  I  had  just  uttered  so  plainly. 

"It  is  always  well  to  look  misfortunes  squarely  in  the 
face,"  I  answered.  "It  helps  one  to  despise  them.  The 
thing  we  call  bad  luck  can't  endure  a  steady  gaze." 

"It  will  help  me  hi  one  respect,  —  this  —  this  —  what 
has  happened,"  she  returned,  hanging  her  head. 

"In  what  way?"  I  asked,  catching  a  foreboding  hint  of 
her  meaning. 

She  hesitated,  but,  after  an  effort,  brought  herself  to  say, 
"I  shall  never  again  have  to  combat  my  own  heart,  and 
surely  that  is  the  hardest  battle  a  woman  ever  has  to  fight." 

"Because  your  heart  is  already  full  ?"  I  asked. 

She  nodded  "Yes,"  her  eyes  brimming  with  tears. 

Her  heart  was  not  only  full  of  her  first  love,  which  of 
itself  is  a  burden  of  pain  to  a  young  girl,  but  also  it  was 
sore  from  the  grief  of  her  first  loss,  the  humiliation  of  her 
first  mistake,  and  the  pang  of  her  first  regret  for  what 
might  have  been. 

"It  will  all  pass  away,  Frances,"  I  returned  assuringly. 

"Ah,  will  it,  Baron  Ned?  You  know  so  much  more 
about  such  matters  than  I,  who  know  nothing  save  what  I 
have  learned  within  the  last  few  weeks." 

"I  feel  sure  it  will,"  I  answered. 

"I  wish  I  felt  sure,"  she  returned,  trying  to  smile,  but 
instead  liberating  two  great  tears  that  had  been  hanging 
on  her  lashes. 

After  pausing  in  thought  a  moment,  she  said:  "But  I 
believe  I  should  despise  myself  were  I  to  learn  that  what  I 
have  just  done  had  been  prompted  by  a  mere  passing 
motive.  I  shall  never  again  see  him  as  I  have  seen  him. 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  39 

Of  that  I  have  neither  fear  nor  doubt,  but  this  I  cannot 
help  but  know :  he  is  the  first  man  who  has  ever  come 
into  my  heart,  and  I  fear  that  in  all  my  life  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  put  him  out  entirely." 

"But  you  may  see  him  at  Whitehall,"  I  suggested. 
"What  then?" 

"If  he  remains  there,  I  shall  not.  But  when  he  learns 
that  his  presence  will  drive  me  away,  I  know  he  will  leave," 
she  answered. 

"I  believe  you  estimate  him  justly.  Did  you  tell  him 
you  were  going  to  court  ?  "  I  asked. 

"No,"  she  answered,  "because  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
shall  go." 

"Then  we'll  not  tell  him,"  I  suggested. 

"Nor  any  one  else?"  she  asked. 

"By  all  means,  no  one  else,"  I  replied.  "I  am  sure  you 
will  win  in  this  beauty  contest,  but  you  might  fail,  in  which 
case  we  should  be  sorry  if  any  one  knew  of  the  attempt." 

"I  shall  not  fail,"  she  answered  confidently,  though  not 
in  vanity. 

"But  Hamilton  said  he  would  return  to  the  siege  when 
he  had  made  his  fortune,"  I  suggested. 

"Of  that  I  have  no  hope,"  she  returned  dolefully,  "and 
I  shall  put  him  out  of  my  thoughts  if  I  can,  as  soon  as  I 
can." 

"It  must  be  done  now,"  I  returned  emphatically. 

"Ay,  it  is  easy  to  say  'now,'  but  'now'  is  a  hard,  hard 
time.  It  is  much  easier  to  do  a  difficult  thing  to-morrow. 
But  do  not  fear,  Baron  Ned.  It  shall  be  done,  and  I  shall 
marry  a  duke  or  an  earl,  loathing  him." 

She  was  almost  ready  to  weep,  so,  believing  that  she 
would  like  to  be  alone,  I  left  her. 

Within  half  an  hour  she  was  at  home,  sitting  in  a  low 
chair  by  her  father's  side,  laughing,  happy,  and  beautiful, 


40  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

with  that  rare,  indefinable  home  charm  a  woman  may 
have  which  is  as  far  beyond  the  mere  beauty  of  hair  and 
skin  and  eyes  as  the  sparkle  of  a  bright  mysterious  star  is 
beyond  the  beauty  of  the  moon's  pale  sheen. 

With  all  my  cousin's  marvellous  beauty,  her  rarest  charm 
lay  in  her  gracious  manner,  her  unobtrusive  vivacity,  and 
her  quaint  combination  of  Sarah's  Machiavellian  wisdom 
with  the  intense  femininity  of  Eve.  Add  to  these  qualities 
the  unmistakable  mark  which  a  pure  heart  leaves  on  the 
face,  and  we  complete  the  picture  of  one  who  in  a  short 
time  was  acknowledged  to  be  without  a  peer  in  Whitehall, 
the  most  famous  beauty  court  the  world  has  ever  known. 

Before  I  left  Sundridge  it  had  been  agreed  among  us  all 
that  Frances  should  go  to  London,  though  the  plans  had 
not  been  arranged  nor  the  time  fixed.  There  was  no  need 
of  haste,  as  the  choosing  of  the  maids  would  not  be  closed 
for  two  months  or  more.  I  left  with  my  uncle  funds  neces- 
sary for  the  purchase  of  gowns,  and  the  payment  of  other 
expenses,  and,  with  his  consent,  undertook  to  notify  the 
Duchess  of  York  that  Frances  would  seek  to  enter  her 
Grace's  service  in  the  near  future.  Then  I  went  back  to 
London,  and  when  next  I  saw  my  cousin  it  was  in  the 
shadow  of  a  tragedy. 

My  uncle's  humble  friend,  Roger  Wentworth,  the  leather 
merchant  of  Sundridge,  had  a  brother  living  in  London, 
who  was  also  a  leather  merchant,  Sir  William  Wentworth. 
He  had  been  Lord  Mayor  at  one  time,  and  had  been  knighted 
by  the  king  because  of  a  loan  made  by  the  city  to  his 
Majesty.  Sir  William  was  an  honest,  simple  man,  who 
cared  little  to  rise  above  his  class,  but  he  had  a  wife  who 
thrilled  to  the  heart  whenever  she  heard  the  words  "Lady 
Wentworth,"  and  experienced  a  spasm  of  delight  whenever 
she  saw  her  name  in  the  news  letters  or  journals. 


A  MAIDEN  ST.  GEORGE  41 

Sir  William  had  a  son,  also,  who  imagined  himself  to  be 
ornamental,  but  laid  no  claim  to  usefulness  of  any  sort. 
Lady  Wentworth  concurred  heartily  and  proudly  in  her 
son's  opinion  of  himself  and  encouraged  his  uselessness  to 
a  point  where  it  became  worthlessness.  But  Sir  William 
took  no  pains  to  conceal  his  disappointment  and  disgust. 
Young  William  held  a  small  post  at  court,  and,  being  sup- 
plied with  money  by  his  mother,  was  one  of  the  evil  spirits 
of  the  set  composed  of  Crofts,  Berkeley,  Little  Jermyn,  the 
court  lady-killer,  and  others  too  numerous  and  too  vicious  to 
mention.  Wentworth  was  goose  to  these  pluckers  and  was 
willing  to  give  his  feathers  in  exchange  for  their  toleration. 

Shortly  after  I  left  Sundridge,  Sir  Richard  learned  that 
Roger  intended  journeying  to  London  in  the  course  of  a 
month  to  buy  leather,  so  he  asked  him  to  take  Frances  with 
him.  To  this  request  Roger  gladly  and  proudly  assented. 
He  usually  travelled  a-horseback  to  London,  but  this  being  a 
state  occasion,  he  brought  out  his  old  coach,  a  huge  lumber- 
ing concern,  and  had  it  painted  a  brilliant  green  in  honor  of 
his  fair  passenger-to-be.  Roger  also  promised  Frances  the 
services  of  his  sister-in-law  with  the  Duchess  of  York,  a 
help  so  great,  in  Roger's  opinion,  that  it  could  not  be  over- 
estimated. 

I  had  been  at  home  more  than  a  month  before  Frances 
started  on  her  journey.  I  did  not  know  when  she  expected 
to  leave  Sundridge,  as  we  had  agreed  that  she  should  notify 
me  as  soon  as  she  reached  London. 

I  had  seen  George  on  several  occasions  after  my  return 
from  Sundridge,  and  although  he  said  little  about  himself, 
I  knew  from  others  that  he  was  at  least  trying  to  quit  his 
old  way  of  life  and  to  avoid  his  evil  friends.  Soon  after 
my  return  to  court  he  went  to  France,  and  I  did  not  see 
him  again  for  several  months,  although  he  came  home, 


42  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

most  unfortunately,  and  spent  a  day  or  two  in  London  at 
the  time  of  Frances's  arrival,  of  which  he  knew  nothing 
until  after  his  return  to  France. 

All  that  took  place  at  Sundridge  after  I  left  there  and  the 
occurrences  on  my  cousin's  journey  to  London,  I  learned 
from  her  and  from  Hamilton  afterwards,  though  I  shall 
write  them  down  now  in  the  order  of  their  happening. 

Early  one  morning  Roger  presented  himself  at  my  uncle's 
house  with  the  huge  green  coach  drawn  by  two  horses  so 
fat  that  they  could  hardly  breathe,  driven  by  an  old  ser- 
vant, Noah  Sullivan,  who  was  so  fat  that  at  times  he  could 
not  breathe  at  all. 

The  season  was  fair  for  travelling,  and  barring  a  heavy  rain, 
the  road  to  London  would  be  good.  But  it  had  a  bad  repu- 
tation for  highwaymen,  and  no  cautious  man  with  anything 
to  lose  cared  to  risk  a  journey  after  dark,  especially  near 
London,  save  with  a  guard.  Roger  was  taking  with  him  a 
thousand  pounds  in  gold ;  therefore  it  was  desirable  that  he 
and  his  fair  passenger  should  reach  the  city  before  night- 
fall. To  do  this  with  the  fat  horses,  he  must  start  early,  — 
a  fact  of  which  Frances  had  received  due  notice. 

On  the  appointed  morning  she  was  ready  when  the  coach 
drove  up.  Her  box  was  placed  in  the  boot,  and  she  took  a 
seat  beside  her  old  friend  Roger,  giving  vent  to  the  tears 
she  had  held  back  so  bravely  while  saying  good-by  to  her 
father  and  Sarah,  who  were  to  move  up  to  London  in  case 
she  remained  at  court. 

Wheezy  old  Noah  on  the  box  cracked  his  whip,  the  fat 
horses  in  the  traces  pulled  and  grunted,  the  coach  creaked 
and  groaned,  the  wheels  turned  and  Frances  had  set  forth,  a 
maiden  St.  George,  to  fight  the  dragon  of  Whitehall,  com- 
pared to  which  the  old-time  monster  was  but  a  bleating  lamb. 
Roger  had  hoped  to  be  in  his  brother's  house  long  before 
sundown,  but  when  he  reached  that  justly  famous  halfway 


A  MAIDEN   ST.  GEORGE  43 

house,  the  Cock  and  Spur,  Noah  insisted  that  the  fat  horses 
were  so  badly  winded  that  a  rest  of  several  hours  was  neces- 
sary before  they  could  proceed  a  step  farther.  Roger  ar- 
gued with  his  Master  of  Horse,  but  to  no  purpose.  The  fat 
horses  rested  till  near  the  hour  of  five,  when  Noah  yielded 
to  his  master's  importunities  and  the  journey  was  resumed. 
Meantime  an  unexpected  rain  had  begun  to  fall,  which  in- 
creased in  violence  as  night  approached.  The  road  grew 
heavier  as  the  journey  progressed,  and  the  wheezy  horses 
required  rest  so  frequently  that  Roger  began  to  fear  for  the 
safety  of  his  gold  and  his  fair  passenger. 

Supper  time  approached,  but  Roger  was  so  anxious  to 
reach  London  before  dark  that  he  asserted  his  right  as  master 
and  refused  to  stop  at  an  inn  where  Noah  had  drawn  up  the 
horses,  insisting  that  they  be  fed.  Considerable  time  was 
lost  in  argument  with  Noah,  but  at  last  they  took  the  road 
once  more,  which  by  that  time  had  become  very  heavy. 
Night  fell  without  twilight,  because  of  the  storm,  and  the 
travellers  were  overtaken  by  darkness  just  as  they  reached 
the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  road  within  less  than  a  league 
of  London. 

The  road  grew  heavier  with  every  turn  of  the  wheels,  the 
horses  wheezed  dismally,  and  Roger  groaned  inwardly. 
He  kept  his  head  out  of  the  coach  door  most  of  the  time, 
looking  for  trouble,  and  found  it  before  his  journey's  end. 
Noah  lighted  the  great  lanthorn  and  hung  it  in  front  of  the 
dashboard,  his  only  cause  of  anxiety  being  the  horses,  until 
a  greater  arose. 


CHAPTER  in 

IT  is  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD 

THERE  is  an  infernal  charm  about  sin  which  should 
have  been  given  to  virtue,  but  unluckily  got  shifted 
in  very  early  human  days.  And  so  it  was  that 
George  Hamilton  had  troubles  of  his  own  in  this  respect. 
When  he  left  Frances  Jennings  at  Sundridge,  he  was  aglow 
with  good  resolutions,  all  of  which  were  to  be  put  into  im- 
mediate practice,  and  many  of  which  he  carried  out  in 
part  by  strong  though  spasmodic  effort  when  he  returned 
to  court. 

His  attempts  to  be  decent  at  first  filled  his  friends  with 
surprise,  then  disgust,  then  raillery.  The  untoward  thing 
had  never  been  tried  at  Charles  II's  Whitehall,  and  it  fur- 
nished a  deal  of  talk  between  routine  scandals.  In  fact,  it 
was  looked  upon  as  a  scandal  in  itself. 

This  new  phase  in  one  of  the  king's  own  subdevils  soon 
fell  under  the  notice  of  his  Majesty,  who  asked  George 
one  day  if  he  would  like  to  have  an  easy  benefice  in  the 
church  where  he  could  meditate  on  his  past  and  build  for 
the  future. 

"And  pray  for  Lady  Castlemain's  unbaptized  children, 
your  Majesty?"  asked  George,  whereupon  the  king 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  away.  Lady  Castle- 
main  and  Charles  were  —  well,  there  had  been  talk  about 
them,  to  say  the  least. 

The  court  ladies  laughed  when  George  declined  to  drink 

44 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  45 

himself  drunk  or  refused  to  help  his  former  companions 
fleece  a  stranger.  Nell  Gwynn  told  him  that  even  his 
language  had  grown  too  polite  for  polite  society,  and,  lack- 
ing emphasis,  was  flat  as  stale  wine.  In  truth,  it  may  well 
be  said  that  George  had  set  out  to  mend  his  ways  under 
adverse  conditions.  But  he  had  set  out  to  do  it,  and  that 
in  itself  was  a  great  deal,  for  there  is  a  likable  sort  of  virtue 
in  every  good  intent.  He  had  reached  the  first  of  the  three 
great  R's  in  the  act  of  repentance,  Recognition ;  Regret 
and  Recession  being  the  second  and  third  —  all  necessary 
to  regeneration.  I  had  faith  in  his  good  intentions,  but 
doubted  his  ability. 

Hamilton  and  I  had  become  fast  friends,  and  by  his 
help  my  suit  of  his  sister  Mary  had  prospered  to  the  extent 
of  a  partial  engagement  of  marriage.  That  is  to  say, 
Mary's  mother,  an  old  worldling  of  the  hardest  type,  had 
thought  it  well  to  secure  me  and  to  keep  me  dangling,  to 
be  landed  in  case  no  better  fish  took  the  hook.  I  was 
aware  of  the  mother's  selfish  purposes,  but  did  not  believe 
that  Mary  shared  them,  though  I  knew  her  to  be  an  obedient 
child.  This  peculiar  condition  of  affairs  somewhat  nettled 
me,  though  I  do  not  remember  that  I  was  at  all  unhappy 
because  of  it. 

But  to  come  back  to  George.  One  day,  a  fortnight 
before  Frances's  arrival  in  London,  while  he  and  I  were 
watching  the  royal  brothers,  King  Charles  and  the  Duke 
of  York,  playing  pall-mall,  I  expressed  my  doubts  and 
fears  of  his  ultimate  success  in  reformation  so  long  as  he 
remained  in  any  way  associated  with  Crofts,  Berkeley, 
Wentworth,  and  others  of  the  vicious  clique. 

"Yes,  I  know  it  is  an  uphill  journey,"  returned  George, 
laughing  with  a  touch  of  bitterness,  "but  think  of  my 
reward  if  I  succeed  ! " 

"Do  you  mean  my  cousin  ?"  I  asked. 


46  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,  but  I  have  little  hope,"  he  replied,  though  perhaps 
he  had  more  hope  than  he  expressed. 

I  had  told  him  of  her  intention  to  come  to  London, 
hoping  that  he  would  leave  before  her  arrival,  as  he  did, 
though  neither  he  nor  I  knew  when  she  was  coming.  So  I 
asked :  — 

"Don't  you  know  that  she  will  be  carried  off  by  some 
rich  lord  before  you  are  half  good  enough  for  her  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  he  answered,  with  a  sigh. 

"You  must  know  that  she  is  coming  for  that  purpose," 
I  returned,  wishing  to  take  all  hope  out  of  him. 

He  winced  perceptibly  and  answered  after  a  long  pause, 
nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  king:  "There  is 
the  only  man  I  fear  —  the  king.  But  rather  than  see  her 
the  victim  of  any  man,  by  God,  I'll  kill  him,  though  it 
cost  me  my  life  the  next  moment !" 

I  was  touched  by  the  new  light  in  which  I  saw  him  and 
took  his  arm  in  friendliness  as  I  said,  "I  judged  you 
wrongfully  at  Sundridge." 

"You  were  right,"  he  answered  impatiently.  "You 
awakened  in  me  not  only  a  sense  of  my  duty  to  Frances, 
but  a  knowledge  of  my  obligation  to  myself." 

"But  are  you  so  sure  of  my  cousin,  even  barring  other 
men?"  I  asked,  hoping  to  sow  the  seeds  of  doubt. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  emphasis.  "As  sure  as  a  man 
may  be  in  such  a  case." 

"Well,  George,"  said  I,  "it  warms  my  heart  to  say  that 
I  hope  you  will  gain  wealth,  station,  and  mode  of  life  worthy 
of  her,  and  that  in  the  end  you  may  win  her.  My  candid 
opinion  is,  however,  that  you  will  have  to  do  it  quickly. 
She  will  accept  none  of  these  creatures  at  court,  of  that  you 
may  be  sure,  but  there  are  many  worthy  gentlemen  in  Eng- 
land who  are  rich  and  of  great  name,  who  have  business 
at  court  and  will  see  her  and  want  her.  There  is  Dick 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  47 

Talbot,  Duke  of  Tyrconnel.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  enormously 
rich,  and  — 

"A  mere  lump  of  meat,"  interrupted  Hamilton,  angrily. 
"She  could  not  love  him." 

"No,"  I  answered.  " Nor  do  I  think  she  will  try.  But  it 
is  better  in  the  long  run  that  a  woman  respect  a  man,  not 
loving  him,  than  to  love,  despising  him.  Respect  is  likely 
to  last;  all  sorts  of  love  may  die.  But  in  any  case  it  is 
Frances's  intention  to  marry  a  fortune  for  her  father's  sake, 
even  though  she  has  to  close  her  eyes  in  doing  it." 

"I'll  try  to  prevent  that  misfortune,"  he  answered 
gloomily.  "  But  if  she  learns  to  love  a  man  worthy  of  her,  I 
shall  take  myself  out  of  her  way  forever.  Let  us  stand  to- 
gether, Baron  Ned,  and  help  this  girl  to  happiness  for  life, 
without  respect  to  myself.  You  see  I'm  not  all  bad.  In 
truth,  I  am  becoming  self-righteous.  I  have  left  the  ranks 
of  the  publicans  and  sinners  and  have  become  a  Pharisee. 
I  tell  you,  Baron  Ned,  nothing  so  swells  a  man  in  the  chest 
as  the  belief  that  he  is  not  as  other  men  are." 

His  righteousness,  at  least,  was  not  devoid  of  bitterness, 
and  it  is  possible  that  a  part  of  his  aversion  to  his  former 
friends  and  to  the  king  grew  out  of  his  jealousy  of  them  for 
Frances's  sake. 

"There  is  no  good  reason  why  you  should  allow  your 
righteousness  to  become  offensive,  as  that  of  the  ranter, 
who  hates  rather  than  pities  iniquity  because,  in  his  opinion, 
God  is  a  God  of  vengeance,"  I  suggested  ironically.  "But 
rather  let  your  virtues  grow  as  the  rose  unfolds  and  — " 

"Oh,  be  damned  to  your  raillery !  I'm  not  going  to  be 
too  decent !"  he  retorted,  finding  nothing  to  amuse  him  in 
my  remark.  Nor  did  he  become  too  decent,  as  will  appear 
all  too  soon. 

If,  for  a  time,  Hamilton's  life  did  not  conform  to  our  de- 
gires,  we  must  not  condemn  him  too  harshly,  for  the  evil 


48  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

which  we  try  to  throw  off  clings  like  a  bur,  while  the  good 
we  would  keep  must  be  tied  on.  Thus  much  I  say  in  antici- 
pation. In  the  end  he  gained  the  battle  with  himself, 
though  his  victory  won  him  the  king's  hatred,  put  his  life  in 
jeopardy,  and  brought  him  misfortune  such  as  he  had  never 
before  known. 

Soon  after  the  foregoing  conversation,  George  went  to 
Paris  and  remained  a  few  days  with  King  Louis,  whom  he 
had  known  since  early  youth.  His  evil  star  brought  him 
back  to  London  the  day  before  Frances  left  Sundridge, 
though,  he  knew  nothing  of  her  departure.  I  did  not  know 
of  his  return,  nor  did  I  know  of  his  remote  connection  with 
the  terrible  events  attending  her  arrival  till  long  after 
they  happened. 

While  Frances,  Roger,  and  the  fat  horses  were  struggling 
through  the  mud,  the  darkness,  and  the  rain,  a  band  of 
congenial  spirits  were  gathered  about  the  huge  fireplace  in 
the  taproom  of  the  Leg  Tavern  in  King  Street,  Westminster, 
a  stone's  throw  from  Whitehall  Palace.  There  was  my 
Lord  Berkeley,  the  king's  especial  crony,  who  possessed  all 
his  royal  master's  vices  without  any  of  his  Majesty's  meagre 
virtues.  He  imitated  the  king  in  dress,  manner,  cut  of 
beard,  and  even  in  the  use  of  Charles's  favorite  oath,  "Odds 
fish  ! "  an  expletive  too  inane  even  to  be  wicked,  being  a  dis- 
tortion of  the  words  "  God's  flesh."  There  was  young  Crofts, 
the  king's  acknowledged  son,  Duke  of  Monmouth  by  grace 
of  his  mother's  frailties.  He  was  a  living  example  of  the 
doctrine  of  total  depravity  in  what  purported  to  be  a  man. 
There  was  John  Churchill,  a  very  decent  fellow  in  a  politic 
way,  though  in  bad  company.  He  afterward  married  my 
laconic  cousin  Sarah,  whose  shrewdness  made  him  the  first 
Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  last,  I  regret  to  chronicle,  was 
George  Hamilton,  resting  from  his  labors  at  self-reform. 


IT   IS   HARD   TO   BE   GOOD  49 

Soon  after  dark  another  congenial  spirit,  the  most  pusil- 
lanimous of  them  all,  young  William  Wentworth,  Sir  Wil- 
liam's son  and  Roger's  nephew,  entered  the  taproom  drip- 
ping with  rain.  Before  going  to  the  fire,  he  called  Crofts 
and  Berkeley  to  one  side.  Placing  his  arms  about  their 
necks,  he  drew  their  faces  close  to  his  and  made  the  follow- 
ing remarkable  communication  in  a  low  whisper :  — 

"At  the  supper  table,  to-night,  my  worthy  sire  let  slip 
the  information  that  my  good  uncle  of  Sundridge  had 
been  expected  this  afternoon.  He  had  not  arrived  when 
I  left  home  fifteen  minutes  ago,  but  probably  is  stuck  in 
the  mud  a  mile  or  two  outside  of  London  on  the  St.  Albans 
road." 

"  Let  him  stick  !    What  is  it  to  us  ?"  asked  Crofts. 

"Thus  much  it  is  to  me,"  answered  Wentworth.  "He 
has  with  him  a  thousand  pounds  in  gold,  while  I,  his  gentle- 
man nephew,  have  not  a  jacobus  to  my  name.  Now  the 
question  becomes  one  of  mere  humanity.  Shall  we  allow 
my  good  uncle  to  stick  in  the  mud,  or  shall  we  sally  forth 
like  good  Samaritans,  relieve  him  of  a  part  of  his  load,  and 
make  travelling  easier  for  the  dear  old  man?" 

"As  men  and  Christians,  we  must  hasten  to  his  help,"  de- 
clared Crofts. 

"But  how  about  Hamilton  and  Churchill  ?"  asked  Berke- 
ley, whose  courage  was  not  of  the  quality  to  make  a  good 
highwayman.  "Crofts  has  invited  them  here  for  a  feast 
with  us.  How  shall  we  get  rid  of  them  ?  Hamilton  has 
become  a  mere  milksop,  and  Churchill  always  was  too  cau- 
tious and  politic  for  this  sort  of  a  game.  Not  only  will  they 
refuse  to  go  with  us  if  we  tell  them  of  our  purpose,  but  they 
will  try  to  keep  us  from  going." 

"Let  us  take  them  with  us,"  suggested  Crofts.  "They 
won't  go  if  we  tell  them  our  purpose,  but  they  will  not 
peach  if  we  take  them  with  us  upon  some  other  excuse, 


50  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

We'll  walk  ahead  of  them,  and  —  but  come  with  me  to  the 
fire.  I  have  a  plan.  All  I  ask  you  to  do,  Wentworth,  is 
to  shake  out  your  cloak,  hang  it  before  the  fire,  and  speak 
of  the  rain  and  the  bad  night  outside.  I'll  do  the  rest ! 
I'll  fetch  them  !  Come!" 

Laughing  boisterously,  the  three  swaggered  over  to 
Hamilton  and  Churchill,  who  were  sitting  by  the  fireside. 
Wentworth  took  off  his  coat,  held  it  before  the  blaze  to 
dry,  and  said,  with  a  terrible  oath :  — 

"Bad  night  without!  Never  saw  it  rain  so  hard! 
Raw  and  cold  for  this  time  of  the  year !" 

Crofts  ordered  a  fresh  bowl  of  Rack  punch ;  then,  turn- 
ing to  Wentworth,  asked :  — 

"Raining?  Who  cares  for  a  little  rain?  I  like  to  be 
out  in  it.  By  the  way,  I  have  a  wager  to  offer !  Ten 
pounds  to  the  man  to  the  table ;  winner  to  take  the  lump  ! " 

"Hear  !    Hear  !"  cried  everybody. 

"  Let  us  all  walk  out  on  the  St.  Albans  road  without  our 
cloaks,  the  last  man  to  turn  homeward  wins  the  entire 
stake." 

"Good!"  shouted  Wentworth.  "I  must  owe  my  ten 
pounds  to  the  pot  until  to-morrow." 

"And  I'll  take  the  wager!  Here's  my  money!"  said 
Berkeley,  throwing  ten  pounds  to  the  table. 

"Will  you  go?"   asked  Crofts,  addressing  Hamilton. 

That  evening  George  was  in  a  mood  for  any  adventure 
having  action  in  it,  for  he  was  nearly  out  of  money.  He 
did  not  suspect  the  real  purpose  of  the  absurd  wager,  and 
after  a  moment's  consideration  of  the  forty  pounds  to  be 
won,  declared :  — 

"I'll  win  the  pot  if  I  have  to  go  to  Edinburgh !" 

"And  you,  Churchill?"  asked  Crofts. 

"You're  a  pack  of  fools,  but  I'll  go,"  replied  Churchill, 
knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe, 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  51 

They  drank  their  bowl  of  punch  and  immediately  set  off 
for  the  St.  Albans  road. 

"The  Oxford  road  is  nearer  than  the  St.  Albans.  Why 
not  take  it?"  asked  George. 

"You  said  you  were  going  to  Edinburgh,"  returned 
Wentworth,  "and,  besides,  the  St.  Albans  road  is  our  wager, 
and  that  is  the  one  we'll  take,  unless  you  want  to  turn 
back  and  forfeit  your  stake." 

To  the  St.  Albans  road  they  started,  Crofts,  Berkeley, 
and  Wentworth  walking  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  in 
advance  of  Churchill  and  Hamilton.  The  rain  was  pour- 
ing down  in  torrents,  and  the  night  was  so  dark  that  Hamil- 
ton and  Churchill  could  not  see  the  advance  guard,  though 
they  heard  a  deal  of  talking,  laughing,  and  cursing  ahead  of 
them.  This  order  of  march  was  what  Crofts  and  his 
friends  desired,  for  of.  course  the  wager  was  not  on  their 
minds.  They  were  hoping  for  something  greater,  and 
would  have  been  glad  to  release  Churchill  and  Hamilton 
had  they  offered  to  turn  back.  But  lacking  that  good  for- 
tune, the  valiant  three  evidently  hoped  to  meet  the  coach 
and  rob  it  before  the  others  came  up,  in  which  case  Crofts 
and  his  friends  would  deny  the  robbery,  if  accused,  and 
would  divide  the  gold  into  three  parts  instead  of  five. 

When  nearly  two  miles  from  the  city,  Crofts,  Berkeley, 
and  Wentworth  met  Roger's  coach  and  delivered  the  attack 
as  silently  as  possible.  Just  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
done  I  have  never  learned,  since  Hamilton  himself  did  not 
know  the  particulars  of  it,  and  Frances  told  me  it  hap- 
pened so  quickly  that  it  was  over  almost  before  she  knew 
it  had  begun.  She  said  the  horses  had  stopped,  which 
was  not  a  matter  of  surprise  to  her,  as  they  had  been  rest- 
ing every  few  minutes,  and  that  a  man  wearing  a  mask 
entered  the  coach,  rummaged  the  cushions,  and  was  backing 
out  with  the  bag  of  gold  in  his  hand  when  Roger  seized  him. 


52  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

The  robber  was  almost  out  of  the  coach,  but  Roger 
clung  to  him  with  one  hand  while  he  drew  his  pistol  with 
the  other  and  fired.  Then  the  man  tossed  the  bag  of  gold 
to  one  of  his  friends  on  the  road,  drew  his  sword,  thrust 
it  in  Roger's  breast,  and  the  poor  old  man  fell  back  on  the 
coach  floor  at  my  cousin's  feet.  She  heard  some  one  call 
to  Noah:  "Drive  on  if  you  value  a  whole  skin!"  and 
Noah,  awaiting  no  second  command,  lashed  the  horses  with 
his  whip  until  they  plunged  forward  at  a  clumsy  gallop. 

Hamilton  and  Churchill,  being  perhaps  two  hundred 
yards  down  the  road,  knew  nothing  of  the  trouble  ahead 
till  they  heard  the  pistol  shot,  when  they  ran  forward,  sup- 
posing their  drunken  friends  were  fighting  among  them- 
selves. They  had  not  taken  many  steps  when  a  coach 
passed  them,  moving  rapidly.  As  it  passed,  George  heard 
a  woman  scream  faintly,  but  immediately  the  coach  dashed 
out  of  sight.  The  light  from  Noah's  lanthorn  had  fallen 
on  Hamilton's  face,  and  Frances  had  recognized  the  man 
of  whom  she  had  been  thinking  and  dreaming  all  day. 

I  did  not  know,  however,  till  long  afterwards  that  she  had 
seen  him,  nor  did  he  suspect  that  she  was  in  the  coach. 

When  Hamilton  and  Churchill  came  up  to  the  robbers, 
Hamilton  asked :  — 

"What  was  the  trouble  ?" 

"The  damned  old  fool  in  the  coach  shot  at  me,"  answered 
Crofts. 

"How  came  he  to  do  it  ?"  asked  Churchill,  suspecting  the 
truth. 

"I  do  not  know,"  returned  Wentworth.  "He  must  have 
taken  us  for  highwaymen,  for  he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the 
door  and  fired  a  pistol  at  Crofts,  who  was  nearest  the  coach." 

"Yes,"  said  Crofts.  "And  he  was  about  to  fire  again, 
point  blank  at  my  head,  when  I  drew  my  sword  and  quieted 
him.  Matters  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  gentlemen 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  53 

can't  walk  out  on  the  public  road  without  becoming  a 
target  for  every  frightened  fool  that  travels  in  a  coach. 
I'll  learn  who  this  fellow  is,  and  will  see  that  he  becomes 
acquainted  with  the  interior  of  Newgate  or  dangles  to  a 
rope  on  Tyburn." 

" Shall  we  declare  the  wager  off?"  asked  Wentworth, 
turning  to  Churchill  and  Hamilton. 

"By  all  means,"  answered  Churchill. 

All  being  willing  to  return,  they  started  back  to  London, 
Wentworth,  Berkeley,  and  Crofts  falling  behind.  The  story 
they  had  told  was  not  convincing,  but  when  Hamilton  ex- 
pressed his  doubts  to  Churchill  and  intimated  his  belief  that 
a  robbery,  if  not  a  murder,  had  been  committed,  Churchill 
answered  cautiously :  — 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  the  less  we  know  or  think  or 
say  about  this  affair,  the  better  it  will  be  for  you  and  me. 
As  for  myself,  I  shall  leave  London  for  a  while  to  avoid  being 
called  as  a  witness  in  case  the  matter  is  investigated.  If  we 
try  to  bring  these  fellows  to  justice,  they  may  turn  upon  us 
and  swear  that  we  did  the  deed,  in  which  case  we  might 
hang,  for  they  are  three  to  two ;  a  good  preponderance  of 
testimony.  But  in  any  case  the  king  would  see  that  no 
evil  befell  his  son  and  his  friends.  Therefore  if  we  are 
wise,  we  shall  remain  silent  and  take  ourselves  out  of  the 
way  for  the  time  being." 

The  next  day,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  George  made  the 
mistake  of  returning  to  France,  not  that  he  feared  punish- 
ment for  himself,  but  because  he  did  not  want  to  speak  the 
unavailing  truth  and  thereby  bring  upon  himself  the  king's 
wrath,  nor  did  he  want  to  bear  false  witness  to  protect  the 
criminals. 

Near  the  hour  of  ten  o'clock  that  night,  Noah  drew  up  the 
fat  panting  horses  before  Sir  William's  house.  The  porter, 


54  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

who  had  been  watching  all  day,  opened  the  gate,  the  coach 
entered  the  courtyard,  Noah  uttered  a  hoarse  "Whoa!" 
and  almost  fell  off  the  box  to  the  ground.  As  soon  as  he 
could  get  on  his  feet  again,  he  went  to  the  coach  door, 

oke  to  Frances,  ran  to  Sir  William,  who  was  waiting  at  the 
top  of  the  house  steps,  candle  in  hand,  to  welcome  Roger, 
and  spoke  but  one  word :  "Dead  !" 

Frances  hurriedly  came  from  the  coach,  and  Sir  William 
went  to  meet  her.  Holding  out  her  hands  to  him,  she 
cried :  — 

"  Oh,  Sir  William,  they  have  killed  your  brother  !  Robbed 
him  and  killed  him  ! ' 

Frances  was  incoherently  explaining  to  Sir  William  when 
Lady  Wentworth  came  down  the  steps  and  led  her  into  the 
house.  Then  the  doors  were  opened  wide,  and  poor  old 
Roger's  body  was  carried  reverently  to  the  best  parlor. 

The  following  morning,  when  I  was  notified  that  Frances 
was  at  Sir  William's  house,  I  went  to  see  her  and  learned  the 
particulars  of  the  tragedy,  though  she  said  nothing  at  that 
time  about  having  recognized  any  of  the  highwaymen,  and 
seemed  strangely  reluctant  to  talk  about  the  affair. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  Roger's  death  he  was  buried  in 
Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields  churchyard,  good  Sir  William 
taking  the  only  means  in  his  power  to  express  his  love  for  his 
brother  by  an  elaborate  funeral.  Never  were  there  more 
beautiful  hatchments  seen  in  London.  They  bore  Roger's 
humble  coat-of-arms,  half  in  white  and  half  in  black,  to 
denote  that  the  deceased  had  left  a  widow.  Never  were 
there  more  nor  finer  white  mourning  scarfs  distributed 
among  the  mourners,  and  never  in  the  memory  of  man  had 
so  much  burnt  sherry  been  served  at  a  funeral. 

These  extraordinary  arrangements  attracted  a  great  deal 
of  attention  throughout  London  and  caused  Roger's  murder 
to  be  talked  about  far  and  near.  The  result  of  this  publicity 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  55 

was  that  the  city  authorities  set  on  foot  an  investigation 
which  soon  brought  Wentworth,  Crofts,  and  Berkeley  under 
suspicion.  The  sheriffs,  however,  kept  their  suspicions  to 
themselves,  and  I  heard  only  faint  whispers  of  what  was 
going  on. 

After  the  funeral  Lady  Wentworth  invited  Frances  to  be 
her  guest  for  a  week  or  two,  and  upon  my  advice  the  invita- 
tion was  accepted. 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  funeral,  wmle  Frances  and  I 
were  walking  out  together,  she  complained  of  young  Went- 
worth's  attentions. 

"To-day  he  put  his  arm  about  me,"  she  said,  laughing, 
though  indignant. 

"And  what  did  you  say  and  do  ?  "  I  asked". 

"I  simply  remarked  that  I  disliked  the  touch  of  half- 
witted persons,  whereupon  he  declared  that  he  had  wit 
enough  to  be  offended.  Then  I  told  him  he  should  thank 
heaven  for  the  small  favor  and  pray  God  to  help  him  use 
it." 

After  cautioning  her  to  secrecy,  I  told  her  of  the  ugly 
whispers  that  were  abroad  connecting  young  Wentworth, 
Crofts,  and  Berkeley  with  the  murder  of  old  Roger. 

"No,  no !"  she  cried,  greatly  agitated.  "I  saw  the  two 
men  who  did  it.  I  saw  them  in  the  light  of  Noah's  lanthorn. 
Neither  of  them  was  young  Wentworth." 

I  at  once  grew  interested  and  asked  her  to  describe  the 
men  she  saw. 

"No,  no,  no  !"  she  cried  vehemently,  almost  hysterically. 
I  thought  she  was  going  to  weep,  so  I  said  in  haste :  — 

"Don't  weep,  Frances  !    You  must  forget." 

She  looked  quickly  up  to  me  and  answered :  "I  am  not 
weeping.  There  is  not  a  tear  in  me.  I  have  wept  until  I 
am  dry." 

''But  your  grief  is  unreasonable,"  I  returned.     "Roger 


56  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

was  your  friend,  I  know,  but  his  death  does  not  call  for  so 
great  sorrowing." 

"No,  no,  it  is  not  that,  Baron  Ned.  You  don't  know.  I 
can't  tell  you.  Please  do  not  speak  of  this  terrible  affair 
again." 

I  supposed  it  was  her  horror  of  the  tragedy  that  had 
wrought  upon  her  nerves,  usually  so  strong,  so  I  dropped  the 
subject,  and  it  was  not  brought  up  again  until  after  many 
weeks,  when  circumstances  made  it  necessary  for  me  to 
break  silence. 

While  Hamilton  was  away,  the  murder  of  Roger  Went- 
worth  was  freely  discussed  in  London  and  was  brought  to 
the  king's  notice  by  a  deputation  of  citizens  who  told  his 
Majesty  very  plainly  that  certain  of  his  friends  were  under 
suspicion. 

The  king  pretended  that  he  had  not  heard  of  the  crime, 
expressed  his  grief,  was  moved  to  tears  by  the  recital,  prom- 
ised to  do  all  in  his  power  to  bring  the  offenders  to  justice, 
and  dismissed  the  Londoners  with  many  brave,  virtuous 
words.  As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  he  joined  a  cluster  of 
friends,  among  whom  were  Crofts,  Wentworth,  and  Berkeley, 
to  whom  he  repeated,  with  many  witticisms,  the  com- 
plaints of  the  city  delegation.  With  what  he  thought  was 
fine  comedy,  he  reiterated  his  firm  determination  to  bring 
the  criminals  to  justice  with  despatch  that  should  have  noth- 
ing of  the  law's  delay.  Closing  his  remarks  on  the  subject, 
he  said  with  a  wink  and  an  affected  air  of  severity :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  insist  that  you  make  an  effort  to  be  more 
careful  of  my  tanners  in  your  frolics.  Even  tanners'  hides 
have  their  uses.  Waste  them  not !  Again  I  say,  waste 
them  not!" 

"Not  even  for  a  thousand  pounds,  Rowley?"  asked 
Crofts. 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  57 

"Ah,  well,  of  course,  a  thousand  pounds  is  —  well,  it  is  a 
thousand  pounds,"  answered  the  king,  laughing. 

It  may  be  surmised  from  the  king's  words  and  manner 
that  he  intended  taking  no  steps  to  bring  the  offenders  to 
justice,  and  that  he  knew  who  they  were.  The  London 
people  soon  discovered  his  real  intent  and  began  in  earnest 
on  their  own  account. 

When  the  net  began  to  draw  too  closely  about  the  culprits, 
the  king  interfered  and  gave  the  London  courts  of  justice  to 
understand  that  further  proceedings  against  Wentworth, 
Crofts,  and  Berkeley  would  cause  a  royal  frown.  The  Lon- 
doners were  not  willing  to  drop  the  matter,  even  at  the  risk 
of  royal  displeasure,  so  the  king  caused  it  to  be  hinted  to  the 
London  officials  that  Crofts,  Berkeley,  and  Wentworth  were 
innocent,  but  that  possibly  Hamilton  was  the  guilty  man. 
No  mention  was  made  of  Churchill,  he  being  at  the  time  the 
Duke  of  York's  most  intimate  friend. 

Hamilton  was  away  from  home  and  was  friendless,  all  of 
which  gave  his  accusers  the  courage  to  fix  suspicion  on  him, 
though  they  did  so  without  taking  the  responsibility  of 
making  the  charge  themselves. 

So  it  was  that  when  George  returned  to  England,  several 
weeks  later,  he  found  trouble  awaiting  him  in  many  forms. 

My  cousin's  presentation  to  the  duchess  was  made  in 
private  and  was  a  success  in  every  respect.  I  asked  Mary 
Hamilton  to  accompany  Lady  Wentworth,  Frances,  and 
myself  on  this  occasion,  and  she  graciously  consented. 
Lady  Wentworth  insisted  on  making  the  presentation,  so 
one  morning  I  called  for  my  cousin  and  her  chaperone,  took 
the  Wentworth  barge  at  Blackfriars  water  stairs,  and  pro- 
ceeded by  river  up  to  Westminster  stairs,  where  we  disem- 
barked. I  left  my  companions  in  a  bookstall  in  the  Abbey 
and  went  to  fetch  Mary,  who  lived  near  by  in  a  house  called 


58  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

Little  Hamilton  House,  under  the  shadow  of  Great  Hamilton 
House,  which  was  the  home  of  Count  Anthony. 

Mary  was  waiting  for  me,  so  she  and  I  hastened  to  the 
bookstall,  took  up  Frances  and  Lady  Wentworth,  went  back 
to  the  barge,  and  then  by  water  to  Whitehall  Garden  stairs. 
There  we  left  the  river,  walked  to  the  Palace,  and  proceeded 
immediately  to  the  parlor  of  her  Grace,  the  Duchess  of  York, 
whom  we  met  by  appointment. 

When  we  entered  her  Grace's  parlor,  she  rose,  came  to 
meet  us,  paused  for  a  moment,  gave  one  glance  to  Frances, 
and,  without  a  word  of  presentation,  offered  her  hand  to  my 
cousin,  saying :  — 

"I  need  no  introduction  to  Mistress  Jennings.  Her 
beauty  has  been  heralded,  and  I  know  her.  I  understand 
she  wishes  to  do  me  the  grace  of  becoming  one  of  my  maids 
of  honor  ?  " 

"Yes,  madam,"  returned  Frances,  kneeling  and  kissing 
her  Grace's  hand.  "I  hope  you  may  do  me  the  grace  of 
accepting  my  poor  services." 

"Oh,  do  not  kneel  to  me  here  among  ourselves,"  said 
the  duchess,  smiling  graciously.  "It  is  you  who  grant 
the  favor,  and,  without  more  ado,  I  heartily  welcome  you 
19  our  family." 

Thus,  almost  before  she  knew  it,  Frances's  beauty  had 
won,  as  we  had  been  sure  it  would,  and  she  was  a  maid  of 
honor  in  Whitehall  Palace  to  her  Grace,  the  Duchess  of 
York,  sister-in-law  to  the  king. 

"The  Mother  of  the  Maids  will  instruct  you  in  your 
duties,  chief  of  which  you  will  find  easy  enough,  that  is, 
to  be  beautiful,"  said  the  duchess,  taking  a  chair  and  in- 
dicating that  we  were  to  be  seated. 

Frances,  Mary,  and  Lady  Wentworth  took  chairs,  but 
nothing  short  of  a  broken  leg  or  tottering  age  would  have 
justified  me  in  accepting  the  invitation  to  sit. 


IT   IS   HARD   TO   BE   GOOD  59 

"Before  I  send  for  the  Mother  of  the  Maids,"  said  the 
duchess,  graciously,  "let  us  talk  a  few  minutes  about  our- 
selves and  other  people." 

Her  suggestion  being  taken  by  silent  consent,  she  asked 
Lady  Wentworth  about  Sir  William's  health  and  was 
graciously  inquisitive  concerning  many  of  her  Ladyship's 
personal  affairs,  to  her  Ladyship's  infinite  delight.  She 
talked  to  Mary  and  to  me  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned 
to  Frances,  of  whom  she  asked  no  personal  questions,  but 
spoke  rather  of  her  Grace's  own  affairs  and  of  life  at  court, 
dropping  now  and  then  many  valuable  hints  that  had  no 
appearance  of  being  instructions. 

Presently  her  Grace  said,  "Now  we  have  talked  about 
ourselves,  let  us  talk  about  other  people." 

We  all  laughed,  and  Frances  inquired,  "Will  your 
Grace  kindly  tell  us  whom  we  may  abuse  and  whom  praise  ?  " 

"  Oh,  abuse  anybody  —  everybody.  Praise  only  the  very 
young,  the  very  old  and  the  halt;  abuse  all  able-bodied 
adults,  and  laugh  at  any  one  in  whom  you  see  anything 
amusing,"  answered  the  duchess. 

"Not  the  king  and  — "  laughed  Frances. 

"The  king!"  interrupted  her  Grace,  with  a  tone  of 
contempt  in  her  voice.  "Every  one  laughs  at  him.  He's 
the  butt  of  the  court.  Do  you  know  his  nickname  ?  " 

"No,"  returned  Frances. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Lady  Wentworth,  laughing  ner- 
vously. She  did  not  want  to  be  left  out  of  the  conversation 
entirely,  so  she  chimed  in  irrelevantly. 

"We  call  him  Old  Rowley  in  honor  of  the  oldest,  wickedest 
horse  in  the  royal  mews,"  said  the  duchess,  laughing.  "You 
need  not  restrain  yourself.  Soon  every  one  at  court  will  be 
talking  about  you,  the  men  praising  your  beauty,  and  in- 
sinuating ugly  stories  about  your  character,  and  the  women 
wondering  how  any  one  can  admire  your  doll's  face  or  find 


60  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

any  wit  in  what  you  say.  Remember  that  the  ordinary  rule 
of  law  that  one  is  deemed  innocent  until  proved  guilty  is 
reversed  in  Whitehall.  Here  one  is  deemed  guilty  till  one 
proves  one's  self  innocent,  and  that  is  a  difficult  task. 
Ah,  my  !  It  has  been  many  a  day  since  we  have  had  any 
convincing  proof  !  Eh,  Lady  Wentworth  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  your  Grace  !  Many  a  day,  many  a  day ! 
Ah,  we  are  a  sad,  naughty  court,  I  fear,"  answered  my 
Lady,  with  a  penitent  sigh.  Her  chief  desire  was  to  be  a 
modish  person ;  therefore  she  would  not  be  left  out  of  the 
iniquitous  monde,  though  her  face,  if  nothing  else,  placed 
her  safely  beyond  the  pale  of  Whitehall  sin.  One  of  the 
saddest  things  in  life  is  to  be  balked  in  an  honest  desire  to 
be  wicked  ! 

"  Yes,  you  won't  know  yourself  when  your  character 
comes  back  to  you,  filtered  through  many  mouths,"  said 
the  duchess,  laughing.  "But  don't  take  offence;  re- 
taliate!" 

"My  cousin  will  have  to  learn  the  art,  your  Grace,"  I 
suggested. 

"Ah,  I  have  a  thought !"  cried  the  duchess,  turning  to 
Frances.  "Nothing  succeeds  like  novelty  here  at  court. 
Be  novel.  Don't  abuse  people  save  to  their  faces,  but 
don't  spare  any  one  then.  Remember  that  a  biting  epigram 
is  the  best  loved  form  of  wit  among  us  Sodomites.  We 
love  it  for  its  own  sake,  but  more  for  the  pain  it  gives  the 
other  fellow.  We  like  to  see  him  squirm,  and  we  have 
many  a  joyous  hour  over  our  friends'  misfortunes.  Turn 
yourself  into  a  mental  bodkin,  and  you  will  find  favor 
among  us,  for  it  is  better  to  be  feared  than  loved  in  our 
happy  family." 

"Ah,  how  beautiful!"  cried  Lady  Wentworth,  deter- 
mined to  be  heard,  even  though  never  addressed. 

"But  as  I  have  said,"  continued  the  duchess,  "try,  if 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  61 

you  can,  to  be  novel,  and  be  a  bodkin  only  to  the  victim's 
face,  save,  of  course,  in  the  case  of  a  new  bit  of  racy  scandal. 
That  must  be  used  to  the  greatest  advantage  as  soon  as 
possible,  for  scandal,  like  unsalted  butter,  will  not  keep." 

The  duchess  laughed,  as  though  speaking  in  jest,  but  she 
was  in  earnest  and  spoke  the  truth. 

"But  I  must  learn  the  current  faults  of  my  friends- to- 
be,"  suggested  Frances,  laughing,  "so  that  I  may  not  fall 
into  the  unpardonable  error  of  repeating  an  old  story. 
Stale  scandal  is  doubtless  an  offence  in  the  ear  of  the 
Anointed." 

The  Anointed  was  the  king. 

"That  is  true,"  returned  the  duchess,  seriously.  "Old 
scandals  bore  him,  but  if,  by  good  fortune,  a  rich  new  bit 
comes  your  way,  save  it  for  our  Rowley,  whisper  it  in  his 
ear  and  forget  it.  Leave  to  him  the  pleasure  of  dissemi- 
nating it.  He  dearly  loves  the  'ohs'  and  'ahs'  of  delight 
incident  to  the  telling  of  a  racy  tale.  But  I'll  take  you  in 
hand  one  of  these  days  and  tell  you  how  best  to  please  the 
king,  though  your  beauty  will  make  all  other  means  mere 
surplusage.  To  please  the  king,  you  need  but  be  yourself ; 
to  please  my  husband,  the  duke,  is  even  an  easier  task. 
He  is  everybody's  friend.  They  will  be  wanting  to  divorce 
the  queen  and  me  for  your  sake.  Two  such  fools  about 
pretty  women  the  world  has  never  known  before  and  I 
hope  never  will  again.  To  see  the  two  royal  brothers 
ogling  and  smiling  and  smirking  is  better  than  a  play.  I 
used  to  be  disgusted,  but  now  it  amuses  me.  So  if  my 
husband  makes  love  to  you,  don't  fear  that  I  shall  be 
offended,  and  if  the  king  makes  love  to  you,  as  he  surely 
will,  have  no  fear  of  the  queen.  She  is  used  to  it." 

"I  shall  try  to  please  every  one,"  said  Frances. 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  the  duchess.  "That  would  be 
your  ruin  !  A  dog  licks  the  hand  that  smites  it.  We're 


62  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

all  dogs.  Every  failure  I  have  known  at  court  has  come 
from  too  great  a  desire  to  please." 

Frances  laughed  uneasily,  for  she  knew  she  was  hearing 
the  truth,  disguised  as  a  jest.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
she  asked :  — 

"May  I  not  at  least  try  to  please  your  Grace?  And 
may  I  not  seek  your  advice  and  thank  you  now  and  then 
for  a  reprimand  ?" 

"Yours  is  the  first  request  of  the  sort  I  have  ever  heard 
from  a  maid  of  honor,  and  I  shall  take  you  at  your  word," 
said  the  duchess.  "  I'm  not  posing  as  the  head  of  a  morality 
school,  but  if  I  may,  I  shall  try  to  be  your  guide." 

Lady  Wentworth  was  almost  comatose  with  pride  — 
"pride  on  the  brain"  Frances  afterwards  called  it. 

Presently  her  Grace  continued  seriously.  "The  king  will 
make  love  to  you  on  sight.  If  he  fails  in  obtaining  a  satis- 
factory response,  he  may  affect  to  be  offended  for  a  few 
days,  during  which  time  my  husband  may  try  his  hand. 
Failing,  he  will  smile  and  will  withdraw  to  make  room 
for  Rowley's  return  attack.  Rowley's  return  will  be  in 
earnest,  and  then  will  come  your  trial,  for  the  whole  court 
will  fawn  upon  you,  will  lie  about  you,  and  beg  your  favor 
for  them  with  the  king." 

"Surely  it  is  a  delightful  prospect,"  returned  my  cousin, 
smiling. 

"Oh,  delightful,  delightful!"  ejaculated  Lady  Went- 
worth in  a  semilucid  interval. 

"Now  I'll  send  for  the  Mother  of  the  Maids,"  said  her 
Grace,  "who  will  show  you  to  your  rooms  and  instruct  you 
in  the  duties,  forms,  and  ceremonies  of  court.  I  suppose 
you  dance  the  country  dances.  They  are  the  king's 
favorites.  He  calls  the  changes." 

"Yes,  your  Grace,"  answered  Frances. 

"And  the  bran  tie  and  the  coranto  ?"  asked  the  duchess. 


IT  IS  HARD  TO  BE  GOOD  63 

"Yes,  your  Grace." 

"And  do  you  play  cards?" 

"Yes,  your  Grace,  but  I  loathe  games." 

"Ah,  I  see  you're  equipped,"  said  the  duchess.  "JBut 
here  comes  the  Mother  of  the  Maids." 

The  duchess  presented  Frances  to  the  Mother,  who 
presently  led  her  forth  across  the  threshold  of  a  new  life, 
destined  to  be  filled  with  many  strange  happenings. 

After  leaving  the  Duchess  of  York,  Frances  and  the 
Mother  of  the  Maids  entered  the  Stone  Gallery,  half  the 
length  of  which  they  would  have  to  traverse  before  reach- 
ing the  door  that  entered  the  narrow  corridor  leading  to  the 
apartments  of  the  maids  of  honor.  Midway  in  the  gallery, 
a  man,  evidently  in  wine,  accosted  Frances  without  so 
much  as  removing  his  hat. 

"Ah,  ah!  Whom  have  we  here?"  he  asked,  winking 
to  the  Mother  of  the  Maids. 

Frances  was  astonished  and  a  little  frightened,  but  she 
soon  brought  herself  together  and  retorted  :  — 

"What  is  it  to  you,  sir,  whom  we  have  here?" 

At  once  it  occurred  to  Frances  that  the  impertinent 
man  was  either  the  king  or  the  duke,  but  she  hid  her  sus- 
picion. 

"Much  it  is  to  me,  fair  mistress,"  returned  the  gentle- 
man, taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing.  "The  sun  shines  for 
all,  and  when  one  dare  be  as  beautiful  as  yourself,  all  men 
may  bask  in  the  radiance  and  may  ask,  'What  new  lumi- 
nary is  this?": 

"You  may  bask  to  your  heart's  content,"  retorted 
Frances,  laughing,  "but  you  must  know  that  it  does  not 
please  the  sun  to  be  stopped  by  an  unprepossessing  stranger." 

The  Mother's  face  bore  a  look  of  consternation,  and  the 
gentleman  threw  back  his  head,  laughing  uproariously. 

"Ah,  my  beauty,  but  I  would  not  remain  a  stranger. 


64  THE  TOUCHSTONE   OF   FORTUNE 

If  I  am  unprepossessing,  it  is  because  I  am  as  God  made 
me  and  I  cannot  help  it.  But  I  can  help  being  a  stranger 
to  you  and  would  make  myself  known,  and  would  present 
my  compliments  to  — " 

"To  the  devil,  who  perhaps  may  like  your  impertinence 
better  than  I  like  it,"  retorted  Frances,  turning  from  him 
angrily  and  hastening  toward  the  opposite  end  of  the 
gallery. 

When  Frances  reached  the  door  of  the  corridor,  she  looked 
back  and  saw  the  Mother  of  the  Maids  listening  attentively 
to  the  gentleman.  He  was  laughing  heartily,  and  when  the 
Mother  left  him,  Frances  noticed  that  she  courtesied  almost 
to  the  floor,  a  ceremony  little  used  save  with  the  king,  the 
queen,  the  duke,  and  the  duchess. 

When  the  door  of  the  gallery  was  closed  behind  Frances, 
she  asked  the  Mother :  — 

"Who  is  the  impudent  fellow?" 

" He  ?  Why,  he  —  is  — why,  he  is  Sir  Rowley,"  answered 
the  Mother,  hesitatingly,  and  Frances  knew  that  she  had 
won  her  first  round  with  the  king,  though  she  kept  her 
knowledge  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL 

IN   the   evening  the  duchess  gave   a  little   ball  in   her 
parlor  to  present  Frances  to  the  king  and  to  the  queen, 
if  her  Majesty  should  attend,  to  the  Duke  of  York, 
and  to  others  living  in  Whitehall  immediately  connected 
with  the  palace  household. 

I  went  to  the  ball  early,  wishing  to  be  there  before  Frances 
arrived,  to  help  her  if  need  be  over  the  untrodden  paths 
of  court  forms  and  etiquette.  Soon  after  I  entered  her 
Grace's  parlor,  Mary  Hamilton  came  in  with  her  mother, 
and  I  joined  them.  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  a 
gleam  of  joy  in  Mary's  eyes  when  I  approached,  but  I  had 
to  be  content  with  a  calm,  gracious  "I'm  glad  to  see  you, 
baron." 

Presently  the  Duke  of  York  arrived  with  the  duchess  on 
his  arm,  and  they  took  their  places  at  the  end  of  the  room 
opposite  the  musicians'  gallery.  Mary  and  I  hastened  to 
kiss  their  hands,  and,  withdrawing  to  a  little  distance, 
awaited  Frances's  arrival.  After  the  others  in  the  room  had 
paid  their  respects  to  her  Grace,  she  beckoned  me  to  her 
chair  and  said :  — 

"Your  cousin  will  arrive  presently.  I  have  just  seen  her. 
Look  for  a  sensation  when  she  comes.  She  is  radiant,  though 
her  gown  is  as  simple  as  a  country  girl's." 

"I  hear  you  have  brought  us  a  great  beauty,  baron,"  re- 
marked the  duke. 

»  65 


66  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,  your  Highness.  We  who  love  her  think  so,"  I 
answered. 

"You'll  be  wanting  to  be  made  an  earl  for  your  service  in 
bringing  her,  eh,  baron  ? "  said  the  duke,  laughing.  Then 
bending  toward  me  and  whispering:  "A  word  in  your  ear, 
Clyde.  You  may  have  it  if  you  play  your  cards  right  and 
are  persistent  in  importunity." 

"No,  your  Highness.  I  ask  for  nothing  save  favor  to  my 
cousin,"  I  replied. 

"She  is  like  to  have  enough  of  that  and  to  spare,  without 
asking,  if  she  is  half  as  beautiful  as  she  is  said  to  be,"  re- 
turned his  Grace. 

"Of  that  your  Highness  may  now  be  your  own  judge,"  I 
returned.  "Here  she  comes." 

At  that  moment  Frances  entered  on  the  arm  of  the  Mother 
of  the  Maids,  and  the  duke,  catching  sight  of  her,  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  God  have  pity  on  the  other  women  !  Half  has  not  been 
told,  baron.  There  is  no  beauty  at  court  compared  to  hers. 
Earl  ?  You  may  be  a  duke  !" 

While  Frances  and  the  Mother  were  making  their  way 
across  the  room  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  duke  and  the 
duchess,  a  buzz  of  admiration  could  be  heard  on  every  hand, 
and  Mary  whispered  to  me  behind  her  fan  :  — 

"If  the  king  were  unmarried,  I  would  wager  all  I  have  that 
your  cousin  would  be  our  queen  within  a  month." 

Count  Grammont,  who  was  standing  behind  me,  leaned 
forward  and  whispered,  "Your  cousin,  baron?" 

"Yes,  count,"  I  answered. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  returned,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"You  will  soon  be  a  duke.  We  may  not  call  her  the  queen  of 
hearts,  for  already  we  have  one,  but  surely  she  is  the  duchess 
of  hearts.  I  wish  I  might  present  her  in  Paris.  Ah  Dieu  ! 
She  would  make  quickly  my  peace  with  my  king  !" 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  67 

Poor  Grammont's  one  object  in  life  was  that  his  peace 
might  be  made  with  his  king.  He  lived  only  in  the  hope  of 
a  recall  to  Versailles. 

Frances  made  a  graceful  courtesy,  as  she  kissed  their 
Highness's  hands,  and,  when  the  brief  ceremony  of  presen- 
tation to  the  duke  was  over,  turned  to  Mary  and  me,  glad 
to  have  a  moment's  respite  beside  us.  She  said  nothing, 
but  I  could  see  that  for  the  moment  the  gorgeous  scene  about 
us  had  bewildered  her.  The  vast  mouldings  of  gold,  the 
frescoed  cupids,  nymphs  and  goddesses,  the  wonderful 
paintings,  the  brilliant  tapestries,  all  fairly  shone  in  the 
light  of  a  thousand  wax  candles,  while  the  polished  floor 
of  many-colored  woods  was  a  mirror  under  her  feet,  reflect- 
ing all  this  beauty. 

The  powdered  and  rouged  courtiers,  arrayed  in  silks, 
gold  lace  and  jewels,  seemed  more  like  creatures  from  a  land 
of  phantasy  than  beings  of  flesh  and  blood.  The  men  with 
their  great  curled  wigs,  their  plumed,  bejewelled  hats  and 
glittering  gold  swords,  seemed  to  have  stepped  from  the 
pages  of  a  wonderful  picture-book,  and  the  women,  whose 
gorgeous  gowns  exposed  their  bepowdered  skin  halfway  to 
their  waists,  measuring  from  the  chin,  and  whose  lifted 
petticoats  made  a  proportionate  display,  measuring  from 
the  feet,  surely  were  brought  from  some  fair  land  of  folly 
and  shame. 

I  touched  Frances's  hand  to  awaken  her,  and  whispered : 
"Show  neither  wonder  nor  interest.  See  nothing,  or  these 
fools  about  us  will  laugh." 

She  laughed  nervously,  nodding  her  head  to  tell  me  that 
she  understood. 

"But  I  must  look.     I  can't  help  it,"  she  said. 

"You  must  see  it  all  without  looking,"  I  suggested,  and 
Mary  helped  me  out  by  saying :  — 

"It  is  all  tinsel,  not  worth  looking  at.    That  is  the 


68  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

quality  of  all  you  will  see  at  court ;  gold  foil,  king  and 
all." 

Presently  I  saw  the  gentlemen  removing  their  hats  and 
tucking  them  under  their  arms,  so  I  knew  the  king  had 
entered,  and  felt  sure  he  would  soon  come  up  to  salute  his 
hostess,  the  duchess,  near  whom  we  were  standing. 

I  told  Frances  that  she  was  about  to  meet  the  king,  and 
admonished  her  to  keep  a  strong  heart.  She  smiled  as  she 
answered :  — 

"I  think  I  have  met  him  already."  Then  she  told  us 
briefly  of  her  encounter  with  the  tipsy  gentleman  in  the 
Stone  Gallery. 

She  had  entirely  recovered  her  self-possession  and  was 
prepared  to  meet  calmly  the  man  who  was  a  demigod  to 
millions  of  English  subjects. 

The  queen  did  not  come  with  the  king,  so  he  loitered  a 
moment  among  the  courtiers  before  making  his  way  to  the 
duchess,  but  the  delay  was  short,  and  soon  he  presented  him- 
self. The  duchess  rose  when  he  approached,  but  hardly 
allowed  him  time  to  finish  his  bow  till  she  took  his  arm, 
turned  toward  us,  and  smiled  to  Frances  to  approach.  I 
touched  my  cousin's  arm,  gently  thrusting  her  forward,  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  courtesying  to  the  floor  before  the 
man  who  believed,  in  common  with  most  of  his  subjects, 
that  he  owned  by  divine  right  the  body  and  soul  of  every 
man  in  England,  together  with  every  man's  ox  and  his  ass, 
his  wife  and  his  daughter,  and  all  that  to  him  belonged. 

The  king  raised  Frances,  still  retaining  her  hand,  and  bent 
most  gallantly  before  her. 

"I  have  met  Mistress  Jennings,"  said  he,  smiling,  "and 
she  told  me  to  pay  my  compliments  to  the  devil." 

The  king  laughed,  so  of  course  the  courtiers  who  heard 
him  also  laughed.  Instantly  the  news  spread,  and  one 
might  have  heard  on  every  hand,  "The  new  maid  told  the 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  69 

king  to  go  to  the  devil."  But  as  the  king  seemed  to  be 
pleased,  the  courtiers  were,  too,  and  the  new  maid  of  honor 
became  a  person  of  distinction  at  once. 

The  king's  unexpected  remark  disconcerted  Frances  for  a 
moment,  and  her  confusion  added  to  her  charm.  In  a  mo- 
ment she  recovered  herself,  courtesied,  and  said  :  — 

"I  beg  your  Majesty  not  to  remind  me  of  my  terrible 
mistake.  I  thought  you  were  a  bold  cavalier,  and  of  course 
did  not  know  that  I  was  speaking  to  my  king.  I  offer  my 
humble  apology.  Pray  do  not  pay  your  compliments  to  the 
devil,  but  keep  them  for  me,  your  Majesty's  most  devoted 
subject." 

"Odds  fish  !"  exclaimed  his  Majesty.  "I'm  glad  of  the 
reprieve.  I  did  not  want  to  go  to  the  devil,  but  Odds  fish  ! 
I'd  be  willing  to  do  so  for  a  smile  from  my  most  devoted 
subject." 

"Merci,  sire!"  answered  Frances,  with  a  courtesy  and 
smiling  as  graciously  as  even  a  king  could  ask. 

"If  my  most  devoted  subject  will  honor  her  king  by  ask- 
ing him  to  dance  the  next  coranto  with  her,  he  will  do  his 
best  to  make  amends  for  his  boldness  earlier  in  the  day,  for 
he  is  naturally  a  modest  king." 

"A  modest  manner  and  a  bold  heart,  I  fear,  your  Maj- 
esty," returned  Frances,  making  the  most  pleasing  com- 
pliment she  could  have  paid  her  sovereign.  "May  I  be 
honored  with  your  Majesty's  hand  for  the  next  coranto  ? " 

"It  is  my  will,"  graciously  answered  the  king. 

The  ball  opened  with  a  brantle  which  his  Majesty  danced 
with  the  duchess,  Frances  remaining,  meantime,  with  Mary 
and  me,  awaiting  the  coranto  with  the  king,  a  royal  favor 
which  would  win  for  her  the  envy  of  many  a  lady,  as  the 
king  seldom  danced. 

When  the  brantle  was  finished,  the  king  worked  his  way 
over  to  Frances,  and  when  the  bugle  announced  the  coranto, 


70  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

she  was  saved  the  embarrassment  of  seeking  him,  as  she 
must  have  done  had  he  not  been  by  her  side. 

An  altogether  unexpected  ordeal  awaited  Frances,  for 
when  the  French  musicians  began  to  play  and  his  Majesty 
led  her  out,  she  found  herself  and  the  king  the  only  dancers 
on  the  floor  except  the  Duke  of  York  with  Mistress  Stuart, 
and  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  with  his  father's  friend,  Lady 
Castlemain.  Every  one  else  stood  by  the  wall,  many  of 
the  ladies  hoping  to  see  the  new  maid  fail,  and  all  of  the 
gentlemen  eager  to  behold  her  and  to  comment. 

The  coranto  is  a  difficult  movement  to  perform  gracefully. 
It  consists  of  a  step  forward,  a  pause  during  which  the 
dancer  balances  on  one  foot,  holding  the  other  suspended  for- 
ward for  a  moment,  then  another  step,  followed  by  a  bow 
on  the  gentleman's  part  and  a  deep  courtesy  by  the  lady. 

I  confess  that  I  was  uneasy,  for  Frances  was  a  country 
girl,  and  the  coranto  was  the  most  trying,  though,  if  well 
done,  the  most  beautiful  of  all  dances. 

Mary  clasped  my  hand  in  alarm  for  Frances  and  whis- 
pered: "I  do  hope  she  dances  well.  The  lack  of  grace  in 
a  woman  is  inexcusable.  She  had  better  not  dance  at  all 
than  poorly." 

Mary's  hopes  were  realized  at  once,  for  the  king  and 
Frances  had  not  been  on  the  floor  three  minutes  till  the 
gentlemen  began  to  clap  their  hands  softly,  and  in  a  moment 
a  round  of  applause  came  from  the  entire  audience,  as  often 
happened  in  those  informal  balls. 

The  king  turned  to  Frances,  saying :  "They  are  applaud- 
ing your  dancing.  Take  your  bow." 

"No,  it's  all  for  your  Majesty,"  she  returned. 

"No,  no,  my  dancing  is  an  old  story  to  them.  It  is 
your  grace  they  are  applauding." 

"Spare  me,  your  Majesty,"  she  pleaded,  laughing. 

As  the  applause  continued,  they  stopped  dancing  for  a 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  71 

moment,  and  Frances  made  her  courtesy  to  the  audience. 
Thereupon  the  applause  increased,  and  she  courtesied  again, 
kissing  her  hand  as  she  rose  from  the  floor. 

The  girl  was  in  high  spirits,  and  laughed  as  she  talked 
to  the  king,  who  smiled  on  her  in  a  manner  that  caused 
my  Lady  Castlemain  to  remark :  — 

"The  young  milkmaid's  affectations  are  disgusting." 
Other  equally  flattering  remarks  were  to  be  heard  from 
women  of  the  Castlemain  stamp,  but  the  men  were  a  unit 
in  praising  the  new  beauty. 

Of  course  the  king  soon  declared  his  undying  love  for 
her,  and  she  answered,  laughing :  — 

"If  your  Majesty  will  swear  by  your  grandmother's 
great  toe  that  you  have  never  before  spoken  to  a  woman 
in  this  fashion,  I'll  listen  and  believe,  but  failing  the  oath, 
you  must  pardon  me  if  I  laugh." 

"I  hope  you  would  not  laugh  at  your  king?"   he  asked. 

"Ay,  at  the  Pope,"  she  retorted,  "if  I  found  him  amus- 
ing." 

"But  if  I  swear  by  the  sacred  relic  you  name,  never 
again  so  long  as  I  live  to  speak  in  this  fashion  to  any  other 
woman,  may  I  proceed  ?  "  returned  the  king. 

"I  would  not  be  a  party  to  an  oath  whereby  my  king 
would  be  forsworn,"  she  answered. 

To  which  the  king  replied:  "I  shall  say  what  I  please 
to  my  most  devoted  subject.  Am  I  not  the  king?" 

"I  am  content  that  you  say  what  you  please  if  you 
grant  me  the  same  privilege,"  answered  Frances. 

The  king  laughed  and  said  he  would  gladly  grant  the 
privilege  in  private,  but  that  in  public  he  had  a  "dam- 
nable dignity"  to  uphold. 

After  the  dancing  was  over  for  the  evening,  the  king 
offered  Frances  a  purse  of  gold  to  be  used  at  the  card- 


72  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

table,  but  she  declined,  and  as  nearly  every  one  else  went 
to  the  tables,  the  duchess  granted  leave  to  Frances,  Mary, 
and  myself  to  depart. 

Mary  and  I  went  with  Frances  to  her  parlor  adjoining 
her  bedroom,  where  we  remained  for  an  hour  or  more 
talking  over  the  events  of  the  night.  Mary  had  heard  one 
in  the  ballroom  say  this  and  another  say  that.  Frances  had 
heard  all  sorts  of  remarks,  some  of  them  kind,  others  spite- 
ful. I  had  heard  nothing  but  praise  of  my  cousin,  and  all 
that  we  had  heard  was  discussed  excitedly  and  commented 
on  earnestly  or  laughingly,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Frances  was  in  high  spirits  till  by  an  unlucky  chance 
Mary  spoke  of  her  brother  George,  of  whose  acquaintance 
with  Frances  she  knew  nothing,  and  instantly  my  cousin's 
eyes  began  to  fill.  I  saw  that  the  tears  would  come,  despite 
all  her  efforts,  if  something  were  not  done  to  stay  them. 
Therefore  I  spoke  of  her  father's  joy  when  he  should  hear 
of  her  triumph,  and  my  remark  furnished  an  excuse  for 
her  weeping.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  Mary  and  I  left 
Frances  and  went  to  the  card-tables,  where  we  found 
Mary's  mother,  who  at  that  time,  happening  to  be  winner 
in  a  large  sum,  was  ready  to  quit  the  game,  so  we  all  walked 
home  across  the  park  with  linkboys. 

During  the  following  month  or  two  Hamilton  was 
abroad,  neither  I  nor  any  one  else  at  court  so  far  as  I  knew 
having  heard  from  him.  After  a  time  the  rumors  con- 
necting his  name  with  Roger's  death  reached  my  ears,  but 
I  paid  no  heed  to  them,  believing  them  to  have  been  made 
of  whole  cloth,  for  I  did  not  know  that  he  had  been  present 
when  the  crime  was  committed.  But  one  day  my  cousin's 
actions  and  words  set  me  thinking. 

Roger  was  only  a  tanner ;  therefore  after  a  deal  of  stir  in 
the  matter  of  his  death  with  no  result  more  tangible  than 


A  SMILE   AT  THE  DEVIL  73 

vague  insinuations  from  Crofts  and  his  friends,  the  investi- 
gation by  the  London  authorities  was  dropped,  at  least  for  a 
time.  Roger's  tragedy  was  forgotten  or  was  put  aside,  save 
in  so  far  as  it  was  kept  alive  by  Crofts,  who  felt  that  it  was 
well  to  keep  the  person  of  George  Hamilton  as  a  fender 
between  himself  and  the  crime. 

So,  as  frequently  happens  when  a  bad  man  turns  good, 
Hamilton's  troubles  began  to  gather  and  were  awaiting  his 
return.  I  did  not  know  where  he  was  (though  I  afterwards 
learned  he  was  in  Paris),  and  therefore  was  unable  to  warn 
him.  In  fact,  I  knew  little  that  was  worth  telling  him  at 
the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  since  I  did  not  believe  he  was 
really  in  danger.  I  did  not  even  know  that  he  was  aware 
of  the  Roger  Wentworth  tragedy. 

Meantime  Frances  was  making  progress  at  court,  of  which 
even  I,  with  all  my  hopefulness,  had  little  dreamed.  What 
she  desired  above  all  else  was  money  for  her  father.  Sir 
Richard  and  Sarah  had  moved  up  to  London  to  be  near 
Frances  and  were  living  in  a  modest  little  house  at  the  end 
of  a  cul-de-sac  called  Temple  Street,  just  off  the  Strand  near 
Temple  Bar. 

The  opportunity  to  get  money  soon  came  to  Frances  in  the 
form  of  an  offer  by  the  king  of  a  small  pension  which  would 
have  placed  her  and  her  father  beyond  the  pale  of  want. 
But  the  king's  manner  in  offering  it  had  caused  her  to  refuse. 

She  had  fallen  into  the  wholesome  way  of  telling  me  all 
that  occurred  touching  herself,  which  during  this  time 
consisted  chiefly  of  the  efforts  of  nearly  every  man  of  promi- 
nence in  Whitehall,  from  the  king  and  the  duke  to  bandy- 
legged Little  Jermyn,  the  lady-killer,  to  convince  her  of  his 
desperate  passion.  She  laughed  at  them  all,  and  her  in- 
difference seemed  to  increase  their  ardor. 

One  day  Frances  met  me  in  the  Stone  Gallery  as  I  was 
coming  from  my  lodging  in  the  Wardrobe  over  the  Gate, 


74  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

and  asked  me  to  walk  out  with  her.  I  saw  that  something 
untoward  had  happened,  so  I  joined  her  and  we  went  to  the 
park.  When  we  were  a  short  way  from  the  palace,  she  told 
me  of  the  king's  offer  and  tried  to  tell  me  of  his  manner,  the 
latter  evidently  having  been  meant  to  be  understood  by 
Frances  in  case  she  wished  to  see  it  as  he  doubtless  intended 
she  should.  She  saw  it  as  the  king  intended,  but  the  result 
was  far  from  what  he  expected. 

"I  turned  my  back  on  him,"  she  said  angrily,  "and  left 
him  without  so  much  as  a  word  or  a  courtesy,  and  I  intend 
to  leave  Whitehall." 

"By  no  means!"  I  exclaimed.  "Accept  or  refuse  the 
king's  pension  as  you  choose,  and  pass  serenely  on  your 
way,  unconscious  of  what  he  may  have  implied.  If  you 
remain  at  court,  you  must  learn  not  to  see  a  mere  implied 
affront,  and  perhaps  to  smile  at  many  an  overt  one.  Before 
you  came  you  had  full  warning  of  what  would  happen. 
Don't  see  !  Don't  feel !  Don't  care  !  Be  true  to  yourself 
and  smile  at  the  devil  if  you  happen  to  meet  him.  He  has 
no  weapon  against  a  smile.  One  escapes  many  a  disagree- 
able situation  by  not  seeing  it,  and  one  always  finds  trouble 
by  looking  for  it." 

"Your  philosophy  wearies  me,"  she  answered  petulantly. 

"In  that  case,  I'll  confine  my  remarks  to  facts  and  to  a 
mere  statement  of  your  duty.  You  must  have  money. 
Accept  the  king's  pension  and  laugh  at  him." 

"I'll  not  take  your  advice,"  she  retorted  angrily.  "I'll 
return  to  my  father's  house  at  once.  He  was  right.  A 
decent  woman  has  no  business  at  court." 

"Since  you  speak  so  plainly,  I'll  do  likewise,"  I  rejoined, 
growing  angry.  "You  came  to  court  to  make  your  fortune 
by  marriage.  That  is  a  bald,  ugly  way  to  state  the  case,  but 
it  is  the  truth.  Admit  it." 

"I  fear  I  must,"  she  answered,  hanging  her  head. 


A   SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  75 

"You  surely  could  not  ask  greater  progress  toward  your 
desire  than  you  are  making,"  I  continued.  "You  came  into 
favor  at  a  bound,  and  have  been  growing  each  day,  not  only 
with  the  king,  but  with  all  the  court,  including  the  queen, 
the  duchess,  and  the  duke.  Every  one  loves  you  and,  better 
still,  respects  you,  which  is  a  distinction  few  beautiful 
women  enjoy  nowadays.  Dick  Talbot,  the  Duke  of  Tyr- 
connel,  the  richest  unmarried  nobleman  in  England,  is 
eager  to  marry  you,  and  would  ask  you  to  be  his  wife  if  you 
would  but  throw  him  a  smile." 

"I  hate  him!"  she  retorted  impatiently.  "An  over- 
grown Irish  fool.  One  would  as  well  marry  a  bull  calf  ! " 

"But  he  is  as  decent  as  any  man  I  know,  and  will  meet  all 
your  purposes  in  coming  to  court  in  the  matter  of  wealth  and 
station.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  a  misfortune  for  a  woman 
to  marry  a  man  she  can  rule." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  she  answered.  "She  always  despises  him. 
I  should  prefer  one  who  would  beat  me  to  such  a  man." 

"But  if  you  intend  to  carry  out  the  purpose  you  had  in 
coming  to  court,  you  — " 

But  she  interrupted  me,  speaking  slowly,  almost  mus- 
ingly:  "The  purpose  I  had,  perhaps,  but  not  the  one  I 
have.  I  did  not  know  myself.  I  did  not  know.  I  doubt 
if  any  girl  does.  I  don't  want  to  marry  any  man." 

"Is  it  because  another  man  fills  your  heart?"  I  asked, 
speaking  gently.  "Tell  me,  my  beautiful  sister,  tell  me. 
I'll  find  no  fault  with  you.  I'll  help  you  if  I  can." 

I  received  a  sigh  for  my  answer,  and  another  and  an- 
other, as  she  walked  by  my  side,  hanging  her  head.  But 
when  I  urged  her  to  speak,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  mine,  and 
there  was  a  cold,  angry  glint  in  them  as  she  asked :  — 

"Do  you  mean  — ?" 

She  did  not  mention  Hamilton's  name,  but  I  knew 
whom  she  meant  and  answered :  — 


76  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes." 

A  long  pause  followed,  during  which  I  was  unable  to 
read  the  expression  on  her  face,  but  presently  she  spoke, 
her  voice  trembling  with  anger  or  emotion,  I  knew  not 
which :  — 

"I  hate  him  !  If  he  were  to  touch  my  hand,  I  believe 
I  should  want  to  cut  it  off  !  I  hate  him  —  that  is,  I  try  to 
hate  him." 

Her  words  and  manner  caused  me  uneasiness  in  two 
respects :  first,  it  led  me  to  fear  that  she  loved  Hamilton ; 
and  second,  in  view  of  the  rumors  I  had  heard  connecting 
his  name  with  Roger  Wentworth's  death,  it  flashed  upon 
me  that  possibly  he  was  the  man  she  had  recognized  by 
the  light  of  Noah's  lanthorn.  Either  of  these  surmises,  if 
true,  was  enough  to  mar  my  peace  of  mind,  but  together 
they  brought  me  trouble  indeed. 

I  had  come  to  look  for  a  speedy  accomplishment  of  my 
cousin's  good  fortune,  and  also  to  regard  Hamilton  as  my 
dearest  friend  among  men.  Still  I  was  helpless  to  remedy 
these  evils  if  they  really  existed.  What  I  did  at  the  time 
was  to  insist,  first,  that  Frances  regain  her  senses  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  second,  that  she  say  nothing  of  her  in- 
tention to  leave  Whitehall  for  at  least  ten  days.  To  my 
first  request  she  replied  that  she  had  never  been  so  com- 
pletely in  possession  of  her  senses  as  at  that  present  mo- 
ment, and  my  second,  she  positively  refused  to  consider. 

The  best  of  women  want  their  way,  at  least  in  part,  so 
I  said,  "I  abandon  my  first  request  as  unreasonable." 

She  looked  up  to  me,  hardly  knowing  whether  to  laugh 
or  to  frown,  but  she  chose  the  former,  and  I  continued, 
"And  as  to  my  second  suggestion,  I  amend  it  to,  say,  five 
or  six  days." 

"Three!"  she  insisted.  So  we  let  it  stand  at  that,  each 
with  a  sense  of  triumph. 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  77 

We  returned  to  the  palace,  and  soon  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  ask  the  king  for  a  word  privately.  He  graciously 
consented,  and  led  me  to  his  closet,  overlooking  the  River 
Thames.  From  this  closet,  on  the  second  floor,  a  privy 
stairs  led  down  to  a  door  which  opened  on  a  small  covered 
porch  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of  stone  steps  falling  to  the 
king's  private  barge  landing  at  the  water's  edge.  When  I 
noticed  the  narrow  stairway,  I  had  no  thought  of  the  part 
it  would  one  day  play  in  the  fortunes  and  misfortunes  of 
Frances,  Hamilton,  and  myself. 

On  the  king's  command,  I  sat  down  near  him,  and  he 
asked :  — 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  baron?  I  do  not  remember 
your  having  ever  solicited  a  favor  of  me,  and  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  grant  what  you  ask,  if  I  can." 

"I  seek  no  favor,  your  Majesty,"  I  returned.  "I  simply 
want  to  tell  you  that  my  cousin,  Mistress  Jennings,  has 
just  informed  me  of  her  intention  to  leave  Whitehall,  and 
I  wonder  — 

"No,  no,"  cried  the  king,  interrupting  me.  "She  shall 
not  go  !  Why  is  she  discontented  here?" 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  tell  your  Majesty,"  I  an- 
swered evasively.  "I  am  loath  to  see  her  go,  and,  know- 
ing well  your  kindliness,  hoped  you  would  be  willing  to 
urge  her  to  remain." 

"Gladly,"  replied  the  king.  "She  is  the  most  beautiful 
ornament  of  our  court,  and  we  must  not  lose  her.  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  for  your  own  ear  that  I  suspect  the  cause 
of  her  sudden  resolution  and  respect  it." 

He  laughed,  and  after  a  long  pause,  continued :  — 

"I  forgot  that  she  was  fresh  from  the  country,  and  that 
she  still  retained  part  of  her  prudish  ideas,  so  while  walk- 
ing with  her  yesterday  on  the  Serpentine,  I  offered  her  a 
pension,  to  which  she  is  justly  entitled,  adorning  our  court 


78  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

as  she  does.  But  I  fear  she  took  my  honest  efforts  at 
gallantry  too  seriously.  My  dear  baron,  the  girl  shall 
have  her  pension  without  the  slightest  return  on  her  part 
save  one  of  her  rare  smiles  now  and  then.  Say  to  her, 
please,  that  the  king  sends  his  apology  and  eagerly  awaits 
an  opportunity  to  offer  it  in  person." 

"I  thank  your  Majesty,"  I  answered,  rising  and  bowing, 
"and  feel  sure  you  have  done  all  that  is  needful  to  keep 
my  cousin  at  court.  She  has  certain  prudish  standards 
which  I  fear  are  too  easily  shocked,  and  is  as  self-willed  as 
—  well,  as  a  beautiful  woman  — 

"Ought  to  be,"  interrupted  the  king,  laughing  and  finish- 
ing my  sentence. 

I  wanted  him  to  suspect  that  his  gallant  speeches  would 
be  repeated  to  me,  hoping  that  the  knowledge  might  temper 
them. 

After  talking  a  moment  longer  with  him,  I  asked  permis- 
sion to  withdraw,  and  at  once  sought  Frances.  When  I 
found  her  in  the  parlor  of  the  duchess,  I  drew  her  to  one  side 
and  told  her  of  my  interview  with  the  king. 

"You  have  tamed  the  lion,"  I  said,  "and  you  may  accept 
the  pension  without  harm  to  your  sensitive  dignity.  But 
please  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  again  by  taking  such  a 
matter  seriously.  Keep  your  head,  keep  your  heart,  keep 
your  temper,  and  thrive.  Lose  either,  and  have  the  whole 
court  laughing  at  you.  I'm  sorry  Hamilton  is  so  fixed  in  your 
heart  that  you  cannot  dislodge  him,  but  this  good  may  grow 
out  of  the  evil :  you  may  judge  other  men  dispassionately." 

A  great  sigh  was  her  only  answer. 

Frances  took  my  advice,  along  with  the  king's  pension,  and 
soon  learned  that  as  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  so  true  vir- 
tue needs  no  defence. 

A  brief  account  of  Frances's  triumphs  and  adventures  at 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  79 

court  is  necessary  before  this  history  can  be  brought  to  the 
point  of  Hamilton's  return;  that  is,  to  the  time  when  I 
knew  he  was  in  London. 

Her  first  great  triumph  was  over  the  heart  of  the  king,  to 
whose  lovemaking  she  learned  to  listen  and  to  smile;  not 
the  smile  of  assent,  but  of  amusement. 

Soon  our  august  monarch  became  silly  with  love  of  the 
new  beauty,  and  with  her  help  often  made  himself  ridicu- 
lous. On  one  occasion,  a  few  months  after  Frances's  in- 
stallation as  maid  of  honor,  he  left  a  love  note  in  her  muff 
which  she  pushed  out  at  one  end  as  she  thrust  her  hand  in  at 
the  other.  She  was  careful  to  do  this  little  trick  in  such  a 
manner  that  those  who  saw  the  king  place  the  note  in  her 
muff  should  see  it  fall  out.  It  was  picked  up  by  an  inquisi- 
tive soul,  reached  the  hands  of  the  "  lampooners,"  and  ap- 
peared in  biting  verse  in  the  next  issue  of  the  News  Letter. 

When  the  king  complained  to  Frances  of  her  ill-treatment 
of  his  note,  she  declared,  with  a  great  show  of  astonishment, 
that  she  had  not  seen  it,  which  was  literally  true,  since  she 
had  only  felt  it.  She  said  that  it  must  have  fallen  to  the 
ground  as  she  took  up  her  muff,  and  tried  to  make  it  appear 
that  she  was  greatly  disappointed. 

"I  would  not  slight  so  great  an  honor  as  a  letter  from  my 
king,"  she  said  demurely. 

"No,  no,"  returned  his  Majesty,  laughing.  "Our  most 
devoted  subject  would  not  slight  her  king's  message.  I 
believe  you  did  it  intentionally." 

"In  which  case  your  Majesty  will  leave  no  more  notes  for 
me  in  public,"  answered  Frances.  And  the  king's  choice 
lay  between  taking  offence  and  looking  upon  the  affair  as  a 
jest.  He  was  too  far  gone  in  love  to  take  offence,  so  he 
chose  to  laugh. 

On  another  occasion,  at  the  queen's  ball,  the  king  asked 
Frances  to  walk  out  to  the  garden  with  him, 


8o  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"It  is  dark,  your  Majesty,  and  I  fear  the  dark,"  she  re- 
plied. "Let  us  walk  there  in  the  daytime,  so  that  every 
one  may  see  how  graciously  my  king  honors  me." 

He  could  not  coax  her  out,  so  he  said :  "Very  well,  my 
prudish  Miss  Solomon.  Have  your  way  and  break  my 
heart." 

"To  do  either  would  please  me,"  she  retorted.  "I  like 
to  have  my  own  way,  and  there  are  few  women  who  would 
not  be  delighted  to  break  a  handsome  king's  heart." 

Frances  having  captured  the  king,  every  other  man  at 
court  was  her  admirer.  She  could  have  had  her  choice  of 
a  husband  from  among  the  noblest  and  richest  men  of  the 
land,  but  she  showed  no  one  especial  favor.  If  one  imagined 
that  she  smiled  with  marked  graciousness  on  him,  he  soon 
learned  that  others  were  equally  fortunate,  and  after  a  time 
each  accepted  his  smile  from  her  and  took  it  for  granted  that 
his  failure  to  receive  greater  favor  was  because  of  the  king's 
success.  All  praised  her  discretion,  though  many  believed 
that  she  was  concealing  adroitly  what  she  would  not  have 
the  world  suspect.  With  all  her  circumspection,  it  soon 
became  the  common  talk  at  court  that  she  was  the  king's 
new  favorite,  though  there  was  no  reason  given  for  the 
rumor  save  the  belief  that  the  king  was  not  to  be  resisted. 

The  Duchess  of  York  and  I  knew  the  truth  concerning 
Frances,  but  all  Westminster  and  London  talked  of  the  new 
star  at  Whitehall  who  was  outshining  Castlemain,  Nell 
Gwynn,  Stuart,  and  the  host  of  other  luminaries  who  had 
scintillated  with  scandal  ever  since  the  king's  return  to 
Britain's  throne. 

One  morning,  shortly  after  the  king's  last-mentioned  con- 
versation with  Frances,  she  met  Nell  Gwynn  in  the  palace 
garden,  and  was  surprised  when  Nelly  addressed  her  as 
"Little  Solomon," 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  81 

"Where  did  you  learn  the  name  ? "  asked  Frances. 

"From  its  author,  the  king,"  answered  Nell.  "Come 
home  with  me  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

They  took  Nell's  barge  and  went  to  Westminster  water 
stairs,  where  they  walked  across  the  park  to  her  house  in 
Pell  Mell. 

Frances  cordially  hated  Lady  Castlemain  and  the  king's 
other  brazen  friends,  but,  after  having  met  Nelly  several 
times,  she  had  learned  to  love  the  sweet,  profane,  ignorant 
girl  because,  despite  her  apparently  evil  life,  there  was 
honesty,  kindliness,  and  truth  in  Nelly's  heart. 

When  the  two  young  women  were  seated  in  Nelly's  cozy 
parlor,  she  began  to  open  her  heart  to  Frances. 

"Yes,  the  king  told  me  how  he  invited  you  to  go  to  the 
garden  with  him  one  evening,  and  how  he  dubbed  you  'Little 
Solomon'  when  you  refused." 

"Ah,  did  he  ?  "  asked  Frances,  surprised  at  the  king's  will- 
ingness to  speak  of  his  rebuff. 

"Yes,"  returned  Nelly,  surprising  Frances  still  further  by 
a  soberness  of  manner  rarely  seen  in  the  laughing  girl. 

After  a  long  pause,  Nelly  continued:  "Do  you  know,  I 
hate  the  fat  Castlemain  woman.  And  the  bow-legged 
Stuart  hussy !  She  seems  to  be  proud  of  her  crooked 
shanks  and  exhibits  them  on  every  possible  occasion.  There 
is  something  about  extreme  ugliness  that  drives  it  to  expo- 
sure, on  the  principle,  I  suppose,  that  murder  will  out.  And 
there's  ugly  Wells  !  I  hate  her,  too  !  Her  charm,  like  that 
of  the  Puritan's  face,  lies  wholly  in  her  damned  ugliness. 
I  hate  them  all,  though  I  do  not  fear  them,  but  oh,  Mistress 
Jennings  —  Here  she  leaned  forward  and  grasped 
Frances's  wrist  almost  fiercely,  "The  human  heart  is  a 
strange  thing,  at  least  mine  is,  for  I  love  you,  but  oh,  I 
fear  you  ! " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Frances,  at  a  loss  just  what  to  say. 
o 


82  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,"  continued  Nell,  insistently.  "Let  me  tell  you  ! 
Of  late  I  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep  because  of  the  dread  that 
you  will  rob  me  of  the  king's  love.  I  can  do  nothing  but 
pray  and  swear.  He  does  love  me  more  than  he  loves  all 
the  world,  because  he  knows  I  am  true  to  him  !  And  his 
love  is  meat  and  drink  and  life  itself  to  me  !  If  you  could 
see  but  one  little  part  of  my  love  for  him,  if  you  could 
know  that  I  worship  him,  God  help  me  !  as  I  should  worship 
only  my  Maker,  if  you  could  understand  that  if  you  were  to 
steal  him  from  me,  you  would  take  my  life,  my  very  soul,  — 
if  so  poor  a  thing  as  I  can  have  a  soul,  —  you,  who  may 
choose  and  pick  men  at  will,  would  leave  his  love  to  me  !" 

"You  need  not  fear,  you  need  not  fear,"  said  Frances, 
soothingly. 

"He  is  not  true  to  me,"  continued  Nelly,  impetuously, 
"and  I  know  it.  But  I  do  not  care.  I  have  his  love,  and 
with  that  I  am  content.  I  would  not  ask  fidelity.  I  care 
nothing  for  the  wealth  he  gives.  I  accept  only  a  meagre 
portion  of  what  he  offers,  and  have  refused  honors  and  titles 
which  would  be  a  burden  to  me.  I  want  only  the  man, 
Charles  Stuart." 

She  began  to  weep  softly,  drying  her  eyes  and  trying  to 
laugh.  "He's  not  much  of  a  man,  and  I  know  his  weak- 
nesses better  than  any  one  in  all  the  world  knows  them.  But 
he  is  all  to  me,  and  I  beg  you  to  leave  me  this  part  of  a  man, 
for  you  only,  of  all  women  I  know,  can  take  him  from  me." 

"I  would  not  take  the  king  from  you,  even  to  be  his 
queen,  if  that  were  possible.  I  promise  that  I  shall  not  rob 
you  of  his  love.  It  is  the  last  thing  in  the  world  I  want. 
You  say  you  love  me.  I  believe  you  and  give  you  like  re- 
turn. Every  one  loves  you,  Nelly." 

"Ah,  I  thank  you  —  Frances,"  answered  Nelly,  hesitat- 
ing at  the  name. 

"Let  us  seal  a  pact  of  friendship/'  said  Frances,    "We 


A  SMILE  AT  THE  DEVIL  83 

shall  need  each  other's  help  in  this  vile  court  that  takes  its 
quality  from  its  king." 

"Yes,  truly  he  is  vile,"  returned  Nelly.  "But  women  of 
my  class,  born  and  bred  in  the  slums  of  life,  do  not  measure 
a  man  by  his  virtues,  but  by  their  love  of  him.  I  know  not 
how  it  is,  nor  why,  but  this  I  know,  we  love  because  of  what 
we  give,  and  the  more  we  give,  the  more  we  love." 

"I  fear  the  same  is  true  of  all  women,"  answered  Frances, 
with  a  sigh.  "  If  a  woman  could  but  say  to  her  heart, '  Thou 
shalt'  and  'Thou  shalt  not,'  there  would  be  fewer  unhappy 
women  in  this  world." 

"Oh,  do  you,  too,  know  that  awful  truth?"  exclaimed 
Nelly,  eagerly  bringing  her  hands  to  Frances's  shoulders. 
"  Tell  me  all  about  it.  There  is  nothing  sweeter  than  to  hear 
the  troubles  of  a  friend.  They  help  to  make  our  own  seem 
smaller.  Tell  me." 

"I  cannot,"  answered  Frances,  now  as  woebegone  as 
Nelly  herself.  "It  is  too  terrible  even  to  think  upon,  yet 
I  think  of  nothing  else.  A  woman  may  love  a  man  to  the 
point  of  madness  and  still  hate  him." 

"But  it  is  not  the  king  you  love  ?"  cried  Nelly,  in  alarm. 

"No,  no,  Nelly.  You  have  my  word.  But  let  us  talk 
of  something  else,"  answered  Frances. 

"No,  no,  let  us  talk  about  you,"  insisted  Nelly,  whose 
curiosity  was  equalled  only  by  her  good  nature. 

"Not  another  word,"  returned  Frances.  "Don't  you 
want  to  go  to  the  barge  for  a  ride  on  the  river?"  And 
Nelly  eagerly  assented. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  barge,  Nelly's  waterman 
asked  her  where  he  should  take  them,  and  she  proposed 
going  to  the  Bridge,  leaving  the  barge  at  the  Bridge  stairs, 
and  walking  up  Gracious  Street  to  the  Old  Swan  Tavern 
for  dinner.  Frances  liked  the  plan  and  accepted  Nelly's 
invitation  to  dinner  —  and  to  trouble. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD  SWAN 

ON  the  way  down  to    the   Bridge,   inquisitive,   irre- 
sistible Nelly  drew  out  of  Frances  a  meagre  state- 
ment of  her  case.     Although  Nelly  could  not  write 
her  own  name,  she  was  excellent  at  putting  two  and  two 
together,  and  on  this  occasion  quickly  reached  the  conclu- 
sion that  there  was  a  man  whom  Frances  had  good  reason 
to  hate,  but  loved. 

Without  suspecting  that  Roger  Wentworth's  death  bore 
any  relation  to  Frances's  trouble,  Nelly  soon  began  asking 
questions  about  the  tragedy,  and  learned  that  Frances  had 
recognized  one  of  the  highwaymen.  When  Frances  refused 
in  a  marked  and  emphatic  manner  to  describe  the  man 
she  had  seen,  or  to  speak  of  him  beyond  the  first  mention, 
Nelly  began  again  with  her  two-and-two  problem,  and,  as 
the  result  of  her  second  calculation,  reached  the  conclusion 
that  the  highwayman  Frances  had  recognized  and  the  man 
she  loved  and  hated  were  one  and  the  same  person.  How- 
ever, Nelly  had  the  good  taste  to  keep  the  result  of  her 
calculations  to  herself,  and  dropped  the  subject  which 
seemed  so  distasteful  to  her  companion. 

When  Frances  and  Nelly  reached  the  landing  at  the 
water  stairs  just  above  the  Bridge,  they  left  their  barge 
and  walked  up  Gracious  Street  (called  by  some  Grace 
Church  Street,  though,  in  fact,  it  should  be  Grass  Church 
Street)  to  the  Old  Swan  Tavern  on  the  east  side  of  the 
street,  a  little  above  Eastcheap. 

84 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  85 

The  Old  Swan  was  a  picturesque  structure,  beautiful  in 
its  quaintness,  sweet  in  its  cleanliness,  and  lovable  in  its 
ancient  air  of  hospitality.  Its  token,  a  full-grown  swan, 
was  the  best  piece  of  sign  painting  in  London.  Its  kitchen 
was  justly  celebrated.  The  old  inn  was  kept  by  Henry 
Pickering,  a  man  far  above  his  occupation  in  manner,  edu- 
cation, and  culture.  He  had  lived  many  years  in  France, 
where  he  had  married  a  woman  of  good  station,  and  where 
his  only  child,  Bettina,  whom  we  called  Betty,  was  born 
and  lived  during  her  early  childhood.  Pickering's  wife 
died  in  France,  and  his  fortunes  failed,  so  he  returned  to 
England,  bought  the  Old  Swan,  and  soon  became  rich  again. 

The  Old  Swan  Tavern  must  not  be  confused  with  the 
Old  Swan  wharf  and  stairs,  which  were  a  short  distance 
below  the  Bridge. 

Neither  Frances  nor  Nelly  had  ever  visited  the  old 
tavern  before,  so,  being  unacquainted  with  the  private 
entrance,  Nelly  marched  bravely  into  the  tap-room  and 
asked  Pickering  to  show  them  to  a  quiet  dining  room. 

Two  unescorted  ladies  of  quality  taking  dinner  at 
even  so  respectable  a  house  as  the  Old  Swan  was  an  adven- 
ture well  calculated  to  shock  the  judicious,  but  Nelly  did 
not  care  a  straw  for  appearances,  and  Frances  hardly  knew 
how  questionable  the  escapade  was. 

When  Pickering  had  seated  his  beautiful  guests  in  the 
small  dining  room  adjoining  the  tap-room,  he  returned  to 
the  bar  and  sent  his  daughter  Betty  to  serve  them.  She 
was  a  beautiful  girl  of  eighteen,  who  had  returned  only  a 
few  months  before  from  France,  where  she  had  spent  three 
or  four  winters  in  a  convent,  her  summers  having  been 
spent  with  her  father. 

There  was  no  fairer  skin  nor  sweeter  face  than  Betty 
Pickering's.  The  expression  of  her  great  brown  eyes,  with 
their  arching  brows,  was  so  demure  as  to  give  the  impres- 


86  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

sion  that  somewhere  back  in  the  shadow  of  their  long, 
thick  lashes  lurked  a  fund  of  laughter  and  harmless  mis- 
chief as  charming  as  it  was  apparently  latent.  Her  form 
was  of  the  partridge  fashion,  though  not  at  all  too  plump, 
and  her  hands,  which  were  white  and  soft  as  any  lady's, 
were  small  and  dimpled  at  every  knuckle.  Her  little  feet 
and  ankles  —  but  we  shall  stop  at  the  ankles. 

Betty  was  unusually  rich  in  dimples,  having  one  in  each 
cheek  and  a  half  score  or  more  about  her  lips  and  chin 
whenever  she  smiled.  She  was  well  aware  of  the  beauty 
of  her  dimples  and  her  teeth ;  therefore,  like  a  sensible  girl 
that  she  was,  she  smiled  a  great  deal,  both  from  feminine 
policy  and  natural  inclination.  In  short,  Bettina  was  a 
Hebe  in  youth  and  beauty,  and  soon  after  I  learned  to  know 
her,  I  learned  also  that  she  was  an  earthly  little  angel  in 
disposition.  It  may  appear  from  the  enthusiasm  of  this 
description  that  there  was  a  time  in  my  life  when  I  was 
in  love  with  her.  I  admit  it  —  desperately  in  love  with 
her. 

To  have  Betty's  services  at  the  Old  Swan  was  a  favor  en- 
joyed only  by  her  friends  and  guests  of  the  highest  quality. 
She  was  not  an  ordinary  barmaid,  though  she  had  friends 
whom  she  delighted  to  honor.  Among  these  were  Hamilton 
and  myself,  we  having  visited  the  Old  Swan  frequently  prior 
to  the  time  of  Hamilton's  going  to  France. 

Frances  and  Nelly  had  chosen  a  table  in  a  secluded  corner 
of  the  private  dining  room,  and  were  waiting  somewhat 
impatiently  when  Betty  went  in  to  serve  them. 

"Will  my  ladies  eat  from  table  linen  —  extra,  sixpence?" 
asked  Betty,  bending  her  knee  in  what  might  have  been 
called  a  perpendicular  courtesy.  Had  she  been  sure  that  her 
customers  were  of  high  rank,  she  would  have  saluted  them 
with  a  low  bow,  omitting  to  mention  the  extra  charge 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  87 

for  the  linen.  But  as  Frances  and  Nelly  were  not  escorted 
by  a  gentleman,  she  was  not  sure  of  their  station. 

"Will  we  eat  from  table  linen?"  demanded  Nelly,  in 
apparent  indignation.  "Now,  damn  the  girl!  Just  hear 
her  !  From  what  else,  in  God's  name,  hussy,  should  we  eat  ? 
From  a  trough  ?  And  mind  you,  if  there  is  a  spot  on  it  as 
large  as  my  smallest  finger  nail,  I'll  tear  it  to  shreds  !"  She 
winked  to  Frances,  perhaps  to  show  Betty  that  she  was  only 
chaffing,  for  in  all  the  world  there  was  no  kinder  heart  than 
Nelly  Gwynn's. 

Betty  at  once  concluded  that  her  guests  were  great  ladies, 
perhaps  from  Whitehall  itself,  for  surely  none  save  ladies 
of  the  highest  or  lowest  rank  would  use  the  language  that 
came  so  trippingly  on  Nelly's  tongue.  So  Betty  made  a 
deep  courtesy,  smiled,  and  answered :  — 

"Yes,  my  ladies,  it  shall  be  as  spotless  as  a  maid  of  honor's 
character.  It  cost  five  shillings  the  ell." 

"  Is  that  the  best  you  can  do  ?  "  demanded  Nelly,  laughing 
despite  herself  at  Betty's  reference  to  the  maids  of  honor. 
"Never  in  all  my  life  have  I  eaten  from  anything  cheaper 
than  guinea  linen,  and  I  know  I  shall  choke  —  choke,  I  tell 
you  !  Odds  fish  !  this  is  terrible  !"  Then  turning  to  Frances : 
"But  it  serves  us  right,  duchess,  for  leaving  the  palace." 

"Yes,  your  Highness,"  returned  Frances.  "But  you  in- 
sisted on  coming  to  the  place." 

Betty  was  almost  taken  off  her  feet !  A  princess  and  a 
duchess  !  So  her  third  courtesy  was  nearly  to  the  floor,  as 
she  asked :  — 

"What  will  your  Highness  and  your  Grace  have  to  eat  ?" 

"A  barrel  of  oysters,  a  lobster  broiled  —  make  it  two  lob- 
sters —  a  dish  of  raw  turnips,  with  oil,  vinegar,  and  pepper, 
a  bottle  of  canary,  a  bit  of  cheese,  and  a  pot  of  tea.  But 
Lord  !  I  suppose  you  never  heard  of  tea  !  It's  a  new  drink, 
child,  recently  brought  from  China." 


88  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,  your  Highness,"  answered  Betty,  very  proud  that 
the  Old  Swan  could  furnish  so  new  a  beverage.  "We  have 
some  excellent  tea  of  my  father's  own  importation." 

"Then  fetch  it,  and  in  God's  name,  be  quick  about  it ! 
Doubtless  you  could  be  quick  enough  in  running  after  a 
man  !"  said  Nelly. 

"In  running  away  from  him  if  I  wanted  to  catch  him," 
answered  Betty,  casting  down  her  eyes  demurely,  as  she 
courtesied  and  left  to  give  the  order  in  the  kitchen. 

Nelly's  love  of  fun  brought  trouble  before  the  dinner  was 
over. 

When  Betty  left  her  guests,  she  went  to  her  father  in 
the  tap-room  and  told  him  that  a  princess  and  a  duchess 
had  honored  his  house,  whereupon  Pickering  began  to  swell 
with  pride.  As  friends  dropped  in  from  time  to  time,  he 
informed  them  that  a  princess  and  a  duchess  were  waiting 
for  their  dinner  in  the  small  dining  room,  and  followed  up 
the  extraordinary  announcement  in  each  case  by  asking 
proudly :  — 

"Show  me  another  tavern  this  side  of  Westminster  that 
entertains  guests  of  like  rank.  If  they  were  to  drop  into 
the  Dog's  Head,  old  Robbins  would  drop  dead.  And  on 
what  would  he  serve  them  ?  I  would  wager  a  jacobus  to  a 
farthing  that  he  hasn't  a  tablecloth  of  real  linen  in  his  house, 
and  as  for  forks,  why,  he  never  heard  of  them.  Your  fingers 
and  a  knife  at  the  Dog's  Head  !  The  Old  Swan  serves  its 
guests  of  high  rank  with  five  shilling  linen  and  silver  forks. 
Silver,  mind  you,  hammered  from  unalloyed  coin  by  Back- 
well  himself.  If  any  of  you  happen  to  be  at  the  Dog's  Head, 
drop  a  hint  that  you  saw  a  princess  and  a  duchess  in  the 
Old  Swan's  small  dining  room." 

If  a  guest  doubted  Pickering's  statement  concerning  the 
quality  of  his  guests,  he  led  them  to  the  door  of  the  small 
dining  room,  where  the  sceptic  was  relieved  of  his  doubts, 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  89 

for  Frances  and  Nelly  looked  their  assumed  parts  con- 
vincingly. 

Soon  after  Nelly's  dinner  had  been  served,  a  handsome 
gentleman  entered  the  tap-room,  sat  down  at  a  table,  and 
tapped  with  his  sword-hilt  for  service.  His  doublet  and 
trunks  of  rich  velvet,  his  broad  beaver  hat  with  its  long 
flowing  plume,  and  his  silken  hose,  had  all  been  elegant  in 
their  good  days,  but  now  they  were  stained,  shabby,  and  al- 
most threadbare  in  spots.  His  shoe  buckles  showed  vacant 
jewel  holders,  and  his  sword  hilt  was  without  a  precious 
stone,  all  giving  evidence  that  their  owner  had  been  deal- 
ing with  pawnbrokers.  He  was  shabby  from  head  to  feet, 
though  he  bore  himself  with  the  convincing  manner  of  a 
gentleman. 

Pickering  sent  the  barboy  to  wait  on  the  newcomer,  but 
the  boy  returned  immediately  and  whispered  :  — 

"Ye  made  a  mistake  in  sending  me,  master.  Better  send 
one  of  the  maids  or  Mistress  Betty.  The  gentleman  is  more 
than  he  seems  to  be." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Pickering. 

"'Ee  didn't  say  nothing,"  answered  the  boy.  "'Ee 
looked  at  me." 

At  that  moment  Betty  came  in,  and  Pickering  nodding 
toward  the  stranger,  she  went  to  serve  him.  When  she 
stopped  by  his  table,  she  made  a  perpendicular  courtesy, 
and  asked :  — 

"How  may  I  serve  you,  sir  ?" 

"You  may  bring  me  a  bit  of  cheese,  Betty,  and  a  mug  of 
your  father's  famous  beer,"  said  the  gentleman,  giving  his 
order  modestly. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  returned  Betty,  making  another  stiff 
courtesy  to  "a  bit  of  cheese  and  a  mug  of  beer."  But 
while  her  knee  was  bent,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
man's  face  beneath  the  drooping  brim  of  his  hat,  and  the 


90  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

stiff  courtesy  instantly  changed  to  a  bow  as  she  exclaimed 
softly :  — 

"Ah,  Master  Hamilton,  I  did  not  know  you.  We  have 
not  seen  you  at  the  Old  Swan  this  many  a  day,  and  —  and 
you  are  very  much  changed,  sir." 

"You  are  not  changed,  Betty,  unless  you  have  grown 
prettier,  if  that  be  possible,"  returned  George  Hamilton. 

"Thank  you,  Master  Hamilton,"  answered  Betty,  laugh- 
ing softly,  and  bringing  her  dimples  and  teeth  into  fine  dis- 
play. With  all  her  profound  respect  for  the  high  rank  of 
her  lady  guests,  Betty's  smiles,  while  waiting  on  handsome 
George,  were  of  a  far  rarer  quality  than  those  given  to  rank 
and  station  in  the  small  dining  room.  In  Hamilton's  case, 
she  could  not  suppress  the  smile  nor  restrain  the  soft  laugh 
incident  to  her  surprise.  The  warm  glow  in  her  eyes  and 
her  murmured  words  of  modest  welcome  came  of  their 
own  accord,  because  she  was  kind  of  heart  and  as  bewitching 
a  bit  of  humanity  as  one  could  possibly  want  to  caress. 

At  different  times  I  had  imagined  that  Betty  was  in  love 
with  Hamilton,  and  had  suffered  strange  twinges  of  jealousy 
on  account  of  my  fear ;  twinges  that  surprised  and  angered 
me,  for  my  heart  had  no  business  going  astray  after  a  bar- 
maid. She  had  always  been  kind  to  me,  with  a  shy  flutter- 
ing in  her  manner  from  which  I  should  have  taken  comfort 
had  she  not  been  freer  and  easier  with  Hamilton. 

Betty's  manner  with  me  should  have  given  me  a  hint  of  the 
way  her  heart  was  tending,  even  at  that  early  time,  but 
Hamilton  was  so  much  more  likely  to  attract  a  woman  than 
I,  and  his  manner  was  so  much  more  offhand  and  dashing 
than  mine  that  I  thought  it  impossible  for  such  a  girl  as 
Betty  to  think  twice  of  me  while  she  might  have  been  think- 
ing of  him.  But  I  was  wrong,  as  will  unfold  later ;  wrong, 
greatly  to  my  trouble  and  surprise. 
:  I  should  be  delighted  if  I  could  discover  the  standards 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  91 

whereby  women  measure  men.  Ugly  John  Prigg  is  adored 
by  a  beautiful  wife,  from  whom  no  other  man  can  win  a 
smile.  Stupid  little  Short  possesses  a  tall  rare  Venus,  and 
cadaverous  Long  a  bewitching  Hebe.  Bandy-legged  Little 
Jermyn,  of  Whitehall,  he  of  the  "pop  eyes"  and  the  rickets 
head,  he  with  neither  manner,  presence,  brains,  rank,  nor 
money,  save  what  he  steals  and  begs,  is  beyond  doubt  the 
lady-killer  of  our  court,  so  what  are  we  to  do  about  it  all 
but  wonder  and  "give  it  up"  ? 

"While  you  have  changed  for  the  better,  if  at  all,"  said 
Hamilton,  "I  also  have  changed  for  the  better,  and  sadly 
for  the  worse,  in  some  respects.  There  is  a  paradox  for 
you,  Betty.  I'm  better  and  I'm  worse.  Do  you  know  what 
a  paradox  is"  ? 

"I'm  not  sure,  Master  Hamilton.  Perhaps  Lord  Mon- 
mouth  is  one,"  answered  Betty,  laughing,  and  coming  so 
close  to  the  truth  that  Hamilton  concluded  she  knew  the 
word.  "He  has  been  coming  here  of  late,  and  has  been 
trying  to  make  love  to  me." 

"And  succeeding,  Betty?"  asked  George. 

"Ah,  no.  I've  stopped  waiting  on  him.  He  hasn't 
money  enough  to  buy  the  shadow  of  a  smile  from  me,  even 
though  he  is  the  king's  son." 

"I  commend  your  discretion,  Betty,"  said  George.  "But 
if  Monmouth  and  his  friends  have  been  coming  here,  the 
Old  Swan  must  be  having  rare  company." 

"Yes,"  returned  Betty,  with  a  touch  of  pride.  "A 
duchess  and  a  princess  are  now  taking  dinner  in  the  small 
dining  room.  There !  You  may  hear  the  princess  laugh- 
ing now  !  She  is  a  merry  one." 

"A  princess,  say  you,  Betty?"  asked  George.  "Non- 
sense !  That  is  Nelly  Gwynn  laughing.  I  should  know 
her  laugh  in  the  din  of  battle." 

"Nelly  Gwynn  ?"  cried  Betty,  joyously.    There  was  not 


92  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

in  all  England  a  duchess  nor  a  princess  half  so  great  in 
Betty's  opinion  as  Nelly  Gwynn.  She  was  the  queen  of 
all  London  east  of  Temple  Bar,  and  dearer  to  the  City's 
heart  than  any  one  else  at  court. 

George,  too,  liked  Nelly,  and  when  Betty  left  him  to 
fetch  the  pot  of  tea  from  the  kitchen  for  the  ladies,  he 
determined  to  go  to  the  private  dining  room  and  see  the 
king's  sweetest  sweetheart,  from  whom  he  knew  he  would 
hear  all  the  news  of  court,  including  perhaps  a  word  about 
Frances. 

Taking  his  hat  from  the  floor,  Hamilton  entered  the 
small  dining  room  and  hurried  toward  the  princess  and 
the  duchess.  Frances  sat  with  her  back  toward  the  door, 
so  that  she  did  not  see  him  as  he  approached,  nor  did  he 
see  her  face.  When  Nelly  saw  him  she  rose  hastily, 
stretched  out  her  hands  in  welcome,  and  exclaimed  :  — 

"Well,  well,  handsome  George,  as  sure  as  I'm  not  a 
bishop's  wife  !  How  are  you,  my  long-lost  love?" 

She  stepped  forward  to  meet  him,  gave  him  both  her 
hands,  stood  on  tiptoe  to  be  kissed,  and  when  that  pleas- 
ing operation  had  been  finished,  said  :  — 

"Come  with  me.  I  want  to  present  you  to  my  hated 
rival,  the  king's  latest  love.  Mistress  Jennings,  this  is  my 
dangerous  friend,  Master  George  Hamilton." 

Nelly's  words  were  my  cousin's  first  warning  of  Hamil- 
ton's presence,  and  her  surprise,  nay,  her  consternation, 
deprived  her,  for  the  moment,  of  the  power  to  think. 
Hamilton  bowed  low  before  my  cousin  and  said :  — 

"I  have  the  great  pleasure  of  knowing  Mistress  Jen- 
nings." 

Anger  came  to  Frances's  help,  and  she  retorted  :  "You  are 
mistaken,  sir.  You  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  me, 
nor  have  I  the  humiliation  of  knowing  you." 

She  turned  again  to  her  dinner.     Nelly  whistled  in  sur- 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  93 

prise,  and  Hamilton  said:  "I  beg  your  pardon."  Then 
turning  to  Nelly:  "I  thought  I  knew  the  king's  new  lady 
love,  but  it  seems  I  was  mistaken.  Adieu,  Mistress 
Gwynn."  And  turning  hastily,  he  left  the  room. 

As  George  was  resuming  his  chair  at  the  table  in  the 
tap-room,  three  roystering,  half-tipsy  fellows,  wearing  the 
uniform  of  the  King's  Guard,  entered,  flung  themselves 
into  chairs  at  the  long  table  and  called  loudly  for  brandy. 
Hamilton  did  not  know  any  of  them,  though  he  knew  by  their 
uniforms  and  swords  that  they  were  in  the  king's  service. 

Soon  after  the  guardsmen  were  seated,  Betty  came  from 
the  kitchen  carrying  a  pot  of  hot  tea  and  a  bottle  of 
wine  for  Nelly  and  Frances.  As  she  was  passing  the  new- 
comers, one  of  them  rose,  seized  her  about  the  waist,  and 
tried  to  kiss  her.  But  the  girl  belonged,  flesh  and  blood, 
to  the  class  of  women  with  whom  kissing  goes  strictly  by 
favor,  so  she  dashed  the  hot  tea  in  the  fellow's  face  and 
went  her  way  with  the  bottle  of  wine.  Though  the  tea 
was  hot,  it  cooled  the  fellow's  ardor,  and  he  sat  down, 
cursing  furiously.  Pickering  tried  to  quiet  him,  saying :  — 

"A  little  less  noise,  please,  gentlemen.  A  duchess  and  a 
princess  are  dining  in  the  next  room." 

11 A  duchess  and  a  princess  ?"  exclaimed  one  of  the  men. 
"We  should  like  to  see  the  duchess  and  the  princess  that 
would  dine  here.  By  God  !  A  duchess  and  a  princess ! 
Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  introduce  ourselves." 

Accordingly  the  three  of  them  made  a  dash  for  the 
door  of  the  small  dining  room  and  entered.  Immediately 
a  series  of  screams  came  from  the  princess  and  the  duchess, 
announcing  that  the  intruders  were  introducing  them- 
selves. Instantly  Hamilton  drew  his  sword  and  hastened 
to  the  rescue.  When  he  entered  the  room  he  saw  one  of 
the  men  embracing  Nelly  and  another  trying  to  seize 
Frances.  His  first  attention  was  given  to  the  man  with 


94  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

Frances.  He  struck  him  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  stun- 
ning him  for  the  moment,  but  the  fellow  soon  recovered, 
and  the  three  ruffians  drew  their  blades. 

Finding  himself  assailed  from  all  quarters,  George  made 
a  dash  for  a  corner  of  the  room,  where  his  back  and  flank 
were  protected.  In  telling  me  of  it  afterward,  Frances 
said  that  she  and  Nelly  were  so  badly  frightened  that  they 
could  neither  move  nor  scream.  The  deafening  noise  of 
the  clashing  swords,  the  tramping  of  the  heavy  boots  on 
the  bare  oak  floor,  the  blasphemous  oaths  of  the  drunken 
ruffians,  and  the  stunning  din  of  battle  almost  deprived 
her  of  consciousness. 

After  a  time  all  that  she  could  see  was  Hamilton's  face 
behind  the  curtain  of  flashing  swords,  and  all  that  she 
could  hear,  even  above  the  din,  was  his  heavy  breathing. 
He  had  thrown  off  his  doublet  and  was  righting  in  his 
shirt  sleeves,  desperately,  and  it  seemed  hopelessly.  Soon 
the  blood  began  to  stream  down  his  face,  and  the  white 
linen  of  his  shirt  was  covered  with  red  blotches. 

No  man  can  stand  long  against  odds  of  three  to  one, 
but,  for  what  seemed  a  very  long  time  to  Frances,  Hamil- 
ton defended  himself  gallantly,  and  seemed  to  be  giving 
back  as  much  as  he  received. 

But  the  fight  could  not  have  lasted  much  longer,  and 
sooner  or  later,  George  would  have  been  cut  to  pieces,  had 
not  little  Betty  entered  the  fray.  No  weapon  had  she, 
not  even  a  teapot,  but  she  ran  bravely  in,  knelt  behind 
one  of  the  ruffians,  and  when  an  opportunity  came,  seized 
him  by  the  foot,  bringing  him  down  to  the  floor  with  a 
thud.  Quickly  another  foot  was  in  Betty's  deadly  grasp, 
and  another  man  fell,  leaving  only  one  assailant  standing, 
whom  Hamilton  soon  routed.  The  two  men  on  the  floor 
attempted  to  rise,  but  Betty  clung  to  their  feet,  and  George's 
sword  quieted  them. 


THE   FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  95 

When  George  was  satisfied  that  the  ruffians  would  not 
try  again  to  introduce  themselves  to  the  duchess  and  the 
princess,  he  wiped  his  sword  on  Betty's  five  shilling  table 
linen,  remarking :  — 

"I  thank  you,  Betty  dear.  You  came  into  the  fight  just 
in  time  to  save  my  life.  Another  half  minute  and  I  should 
have  needed  a  coffin."  He  was  breathing  heavily  and 
spoke  with  great  effort. 

When  George  had  sheathed  his  sword,  he  started  to  leave 
the  room  without  speaking  to  Frances  or  Nelly,  but  before 
he  reached  the  door,  Frances  called  out  faintly :  — 

"Master  Hamilton  !     Please  wait,  Master  Hamilton  !" 

For  the  moment  she  forgot  the  cause  of  her  hatred  of 
him,  forgot  that  he  had  been  implicated  in  Roger's  murder, 
as  she  supposed,  forgot  everything  in  all  the  broad  world 
save  her  love  for  him,  and  that  he  had  just  been  at  death's 
door  in  her  defence. 

Hamilton  stopped  a  little  short  of  the  door,  and  Frances 
ran  to  him,  calling  softly:  "Oh,  sir,  wait!  Forgive  me! 
I  do  know  you  !  A  moment  since  I  did  not  know  you, 
but  now  —  Oh,  I  must  have  made  a  terrible  mistake  !  I 
have  judged  you  wrongfully.  I  do  know  you  !  I  do  know 
you!" 

Hamilton  bowed  and  smiled  grimly  through  the  blood 
which  was  trickling  down  his  face,  then  standing  proudly 
erect,  answered :  — 

"  Mistress  Jennings  is  mistaken.  She  does  not  know  me, 
nor  have  I  the  honor  of  knowing  the  king's  new  favorite." 

Here  Betty  cut  the  conversation  short  by  saying :  "  I'll 
fetch  a  barber-surgeon,  while  father  takes  you  to  a  room." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort  for  me,"  objected  Hamil- 
ton. "My  wounds  are  mere  scratches.  I'll  go  to  the 
pump.  It  is  the  only  surgeon  I  shall  need.  Fetch  a  barber 
for  the  men  on  the  floor  there." 


96  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

George  went  to  the  pump  in  the  courtyard,  followed  by 
Betty,  after  whom  came  Nelly  and  Frances.  Betty  was 
proceeding  to  wash  George's  wounds,  when  Nelly  offered 
to  take  the  towel  from  her  hand,  but  the  girl  refused  with 
a  touch  of  anger,  saying :  — 

"Please  do  not  interfere,  Mistress  Gwynn.  You  and 
the  duchess  stood  by  gaping  while  he  was  fighting  to  pro- 
tect you.  He  would  have  been  dead  by  now  if  he  had 
waited  for  help  from  either  of  you.  I  advise  you  to  leave 
the  Old  Swan,  but  don't  forget  to  pay  your  bill  to  the 
barboy." 

"Never  mind  the  bill,"  said  Pickering,  who  was  at  the 
pump  handle.  "But  please  take  my  daughter's  advice  and 

go." 

"Go  where  you  may  find  guinea  linen.  Persons  of  your 
quality  make  too  much  trouble  at  the  Old  Swan,"  inter- 
posed Betty,  who  was  not  in  a  good  temper. 

At  first  Nelly  was  inclined  to  resent  Betty's  sharp  words, 
but  in  a  moment  she  returned  softly :  — 

"You're  right,  girl.  You  have  earned  the  privilege  to 
scold." 

"And  please  -forgive  us,"  said  Frances,  to  which  Betty 
did  not  reply. 

"Where  are  your  wounds?"  asked  Nelly,  addressing 
George.  "Off  with  your  clothes  and  let  us  see." 

"Not  here,  Nelly,  not  here,"  he  answered,  bending  over 
the  tub  in  front  of  the  pump.  "  My  wounds  are  mere  trifles. 
Only  a  scratch  or  two  on  the  scalp  and  a  pink  or  two  on 
the  arms.  Take  Betty's  advice.  Leave  at  once.  This  is 
no  place  for  your  friend.  The  society  of  our  virtuous  mon- 
arch doubtless  will  be  far  more  congenial." 

Nelly  hesitated,  and  George,  seeing  that  Frances  was 
about  to  speak,  turned  upon  her,  almost  angrily :  — 

"Please  go  before  greater  trouble  comes.    I  could  not 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  97 

hold  out  for  another  fight.  I  am  almost  finished.  Let  the 
king  fight  the  battles  of  his  friends.  The  ruffian  that 
escaped  will  return  with  reinforcements,  and  I  am  not  able 
to  fight  them  again." 

"Oh,  but  she  is  not  the  king's  friend,  as  you  suppose,  as 
my  idle  words  might  lead  you  to  believe,"  returned  Nelly, 
pleadingly. 

George  rose  from  the  tub  over  which  he  was  standing  and 
answered :  "Show  your  gratitude  for  what  I  have  done  by 
going  at  once." 

Seeing  that  George  was  in  earnest,  Nelly  left  the  court- 
yard, leading  reluctant  Frances  by  the  hand.  Hamilton's 
supposed  crime  had  been  forgotten,  and  I  believe  would  have 
been  forgiven  had  he  permitted  Frances  the  opportunity  at 
that  time. 

When  Frances  and  Nelly  reached  the  street,  Frances  said, 
"I  must  see  him  again  to  tell  him  that  I  am  not  — 

"What  I  am,"  interrupted  Nelly.  "Do  not  fear  to  speak 
plainly.  I  am  content  with  myself.  But  I  shall  take  meas- 
ures at  once  to  convince  George  that  you  are  what  you  are. 
I'll  set  you  right  with  him." 

"I'll  return  and  explain  for  myself,"  insisted  Frances. 

"He  will  refuse  to  hear  you.  If  you  wish,  I'll  leave  you  at 
the  barge  and  go  back  to  explain  to  him." 

Frances  consenting,  they  went  back  to  the  barge,  and 
Nelly,  returning  to  the  tavern,  sought  Betty.  Hamilton 
was  not  to  be  seen,  and  in  reply  to  Nelly's  inquiries,  Betty 
told  her  that  he  had  fainted  at  the  pump  and  had  been  taken 
upstairs  to  a  room. 

"His  wounds  are  deeper  than  he  supposed,"  said  Betty, 
"and  the  loss  of  blood  has  been  very  great.  We  have  sent 
for  a  surgeon." 

"I'll  go  to  see  him,"  said  Nelly. 

"  No,"  returned  Betty,  shaking  her  head  emphatically. 


98  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"Father  says  that  fever  may  set  in,  and  that  Master  Hamil- 
ton must  not  be  disturbed.  You  cannot  see  him." 

"Have  your  way,  Betty,"  answered  good-natured  Nell. 
"And  Betty  dear,  I  was  only  teasing  you  about  the  table 
linen." 

"I  understand.  Just  a  little  sport  with  the  barmaid," 
returned  Betty,  a  note  of  sarcasm  ringing  sharply  in  her 
usually  soft  voice. 

"Yes,  Betty.  I'm  sorry.  Forgive  me.  Here  are  two 
guineas." 

"I  don't  want  them,"  answered  Betty,  clasping  her  hands 
behind  her. 

"Again  forgive  me,"  said  Nelly.  "I  have  been  wrong 
altogether  in  my  opinion  of  you.  You  are  a  good,  beautiful 
girl,  and  I'm  coming  back  to  see  you  very  soon." 

"Please  don't  come  on  my  account,  Mistress  Gwynn," 
returned  Betty. 

"No,  I  shall  come  on  my  account,"  replied  Nell,  coax- 
ingly.  "I'll  go  now  for  fear  of  making  more  trouble  for 
you,  but  I  intend  to  be  your  friend,  and  you  shall  be  mine. 
When  Nelly  makes  up  her  mind  to  have  a  friend,  she  always 
has  her  way.  Good-by,  Betty." 

Betty  courtesied,  and  Nelly  left  the  Old  Swan,  returning 
at  once  to  Frances,  who  was  waiting  in  the  barge.  On  their 
way  back  to  the  palace  neither  Frances  nor  Nelly  spoke 
after  Nelly  had  told  what  she  had  heard  at  the  inn.  Usually 
Nelly  was  laughing  or  talking,  or  both,  and  when  a  woman 
of  her  temperament  is  silent,  she  is  thinking.  In  this  in- 
stance her  thinking  brought  her  to  two  conclusions :  first, 
that  Hamilton  was  the  man  Frances  loved  and  hated ;  and 
second,  that  it  was  his  face  she  had  recognized  on  the  night 
Roger  Wentworth  was  killed. 

The  dangerous  element  in  these  calculations  was  that 
they  were  sure  to  reach  the  king's  ear  as  soon  as  Nelly  found 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  99 

an  opportunity  to  impart  them.  It  were  treason  to  with- 
hold from  his  Majesty  such  a  tearing  bit  of  scandal.  She 
had  no  reason  to  suspect  that  the  telling  of  what  had  hap- 
pened and  of  what  she  had  deduced  would  bring  trouble 
to  Frances  and  George.  She  simply  knew  that  the  king 
would  be  vastly  pleased  with  the  story,  and  her  only  pur- 
pose in  life  was  to  give  him  pleasure.  How  well  she  pleased 
him  in  this  instance  and  the  result  of  her  innocent  effort  to 
make  him  happy  will  soon  appear. 

The  day  after  the  adventure  of  Frances  and  Nelly  at  the 
Old  Swan,  I  had  business  with  Backwell,  the  goldsmith, 
and  when  I  had  disposed  of  my  matters,  I  walked  over  to 
the  Old  Swan  near  by  to  eat  a  grilled  lobster,  a  dish  for  which 
the  inn  was  famous.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  trouble  that 
had  occurred  the  day  before,  not  having  seen  my  cousin, 
nor  did  I  know  that  Hamilton  was  in  London,  not  having 
seen  nor  heard  from  him  since  Frances's  arrival  at  court. 

By  far  my  greatest  motive  in  going  to  the  Old  Swan  was  to 
see  Betty,  whose  beauty  and  sweetness  had  begun  to  haunt 
me  about  that  time. 

If  Mary  Hamilton  had  shown  me  the  least  evidence  of 
warmth,  my  admiration  for  Bettina,  perhaps,  would  have 
remained  merely  admiration.  But  in  view  of  Mary's 
admirable  self-control,  I  found  myself  falling  into  a  method 
of  thought  morally  then  prevalent  with  all  modish  men.  I 
confess  with  shame  that  I  hoped  to  have  Mary  for  my  wife 
and  Bettina  to  love  me  and  to  be  loved.  I  did  not  know 
Betty  then,  and  have  regretted  all  my  life  that  once  I 
looked  upon  her  as  —  well,  as  a  barmaid.  While  I  thor- 
oughly realized  that  she  was  an  unusual  girl  in  many  re- 
spects, still  I  held  to  a  theory  then  prevalent  that  barmaids 
were  created  to  be  kissed. 

When  I  reached  the  Old  Swan,  I  chose  a  table  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  tap-room,  ordered  a  lobster  from  one  of  the 


ioo          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

maids,  and,  while  waiting  for  it,  drank  a  cup  of  wormwood 

wine. 

The  place  seemed  dingy  and  drear  with  its  great  ceiling 
beams  of  time-darkened  oak,  its  long,  narrow  windows  of 
small  square  panes,  its  black  fireplace,  lifeless  without  the 
flames,  and  its  dark,  grim  mahogany  bar  stretching  halfway 
across  the  south  side  of  the  room.  The  white  floor,  well 
sanded  and  polished,  seemed  only  to  accentuate  the  general 
gloom,  and  the  great  clock,  ticking  solemnly  behind  the  bar, 
seemed  to  be  marking  time  for  a  funeral  dirge.  But  sud- 
denly all  changed  to  brightness  when  Betty  entered.  Pick- 
ering was  talking  to  me,  standing  between  me  and  the  girl, 
so  that  she  did  not  see  me  when  she  first  came  into  the  room. 
She  stepped  behind  the  bar  for  some  purpose  and  called 
to  her  father,  who  started  to  go  to  her,  but  before  he  reached 
her  she  looked  up  and  saw  me.  In  a  moment  she  was  by 
my  side,  smiling  and  dimpling  in  a  manner  fit  to  set  the  heart 
of  an  anchorite  a-thumping. 

"I  came  for  a  lobster,  Betty,"  I  said,  taking  her  hand, 
"and  to  see  you.  I  was  afraid  you  might  forget  me." 

"The  Old  Swan  is  likely  to  forget  you,  Baron  Ned,"  she 
answered,  withdrawing  her  hand,  "if  you  don't  come  to  see 
us  oftener." 

"Ah,  Bet.ty,  you're  a  mercenary  bit  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Always  looking  out  for  customers,"  I  returned,  shaking  my 
head. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  laughing  softly.  "And  —  and  very 
sorry  when  certain  customers  come  so  seldom." 

Had  she  spoken  glibly,  her  words  would  have  meant  noth- 
ing, but  there  was  a  hesitancy,  a  pretty  fluttering  in  her 
manner  which  pleased  me,  so  I  was  emboldened  to  say :  — 

"I  hope  I  am  one  of  the  'certain  customers,'  Betty." 

Again  she  laughed  softly,  as  she  answered,  "Yes,  Baron 
Ned,  the  certain  one." 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  101 

"Do  you  mean,  Betty,  that  I  am  the  'certain  one'  for 
the  Old  Swan  or  for  Betty?"  I  asked. 

She  was  standing  near  me,  and  I  again  caught  her  hand, 
but  it  was  not  a  part  of  Betty's  programme  to  be  questioned 
too  closely,  so  she  withdrew  her  hand,  saying,  "I  must  go." 

On  former  occasions  I  had  put  forth  what  I  considered 
adroit  efforts  to  steal  small  favors  from  the  girl,  for,  as  al- 
ready intimated,  I  considered  her  merely  a  barmaid ;  but 
I  had  failed,  and  the  conviction  was  dawning  on  my  mind 
that  either  she  was  not  an  ordinary  barmaid  or  that  I  was 
the  wrong  man.  The  first  assumption  would  make  me  all 
the  more  eager,  but  the  second  would  deter  any  self-respect- 
ing man  from  further  pursuit.  My  fears  inclined  me  to 
accept  the  second,  and  resulted  in  a  dim  sort  of  jealousy  of 
the  right  man,  who,  I  suspected,  was  Hamilton. 

When  Betty  started  to  leave  me,  I  caught  her  skirt  to 
detain  her,  and  said  :  "When  George  Hamilton  used  to  come 
here,  I  was  jealous  of  him,  and  feared  that  he  might  be 
the  'certain  customer.'  But  I  am  glad  that  he  has  left 
England." 

The  girl  blushed  as  she  answered,  "No,  no,  Baron  Ned, 
there  is  no  other  'certain  customer.'"  But  she  checked 
herself,  evidently  having  said  more  than  she  intended,  and 
continued  hurriedly:  "But  Master  Hamilton  has  not  left 
England.  He  is  now  in  the  Old  Swan.  He  asked  me  to 
say  nothing  of  his  presence  in  London,  but  I  know  he  would 
want  me  to  tell  you." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course  he  would,  Betty.  Where  is  he?"  I 
asked. 

"Upstairs  in  bed,"  she  answered. 

"Is  he  sick  ?"  I  asked,  rising. 

"No  and  yes,"  she  replied.  "He  is  suffering  from  his 
wounds,  and  the  surgeon  says  the  fever  is  mounting  rapidly 
to  his  head." 


102          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"His  wounds  ?"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  lots  of  them,"  she  answered.  "But  I  hope  none  of 
them  are  serious,  save  for  the  loss  of  blood." 

"Wounds?  Blood?  Tell  me,  Betty,  tell  me!  Has  he 
been  in  trouble  ?"  I  asked,  deeply  concerned. 

"You  see  it  was  this  way,  Baron  Ned,"  she  began,  lean- 
ing back  against  the  table  and  smoothing  out  her  apron. 
"Yesterday  while  Mistress  Gwynn  and  another  lady,  a 
duchess,  were  eating  their  dinner  in  the  small  dining  room, 
three  drunken  ruffians  came  in  and  tried  to  kiss  them. 
Master  Hamilton,  who  was  here  at  this  very  table,  heard  the 
disturbance,  so  he  drew  his  sword,  ran  to  the  rescue,  and 
he  and  I  beat  the  fellows  out.  He  fought  beautifully,  but 
one  man  can't  stand  long  against  three,  so  I  upset  two  of 
the  ruffians  by  tripping  them  —  pulled  their  feet  from  under 
them,  you  know  —  and  Master  Hamilton's  sword  did  the 
rest.  One  of  them  ran  away,  and  the  other  two  were  carried 
to  the  hospital  on  stretchers.  One  of  the  ruffians  had  tried 
to  kiss  me  a  few  minutes  before,  and  I  had  almost  drowned 
him  with  a  pot  of  tea.  If  he  ever  returns,  I'll  see  that  the 
tea  is  boiling." 

"It  seems  that  every  one  is  wanting  to  kiss  you,  Betty,"  I 
remarked. 

"Not  every  one,  but  too  many,"  she  rejoined. 

"And  you  don't  want  to  be  kissed,  Betty?"   I  asked. 

"Well,  not  by  the  wrong  man,"  she  answered,  laughing 
softly  and  tossing  her  head  emphatically. 

"I  wish  I  were  the  right  man,"  I  suggested. 

"There  is  no  right  man  —  yet,"  she  returned,  laughing 
and  dimpling  till  I  almost  wished  there  was  not  a  dimpling 
stubborn  girl  in  all  the  world. 

"Betty,  you're  a  bloodthirsty  little  wretch,"  I  said, 
shaking  my  head  sorrowfully.  "You  scald  one  man  and 
help  Hamilton  to  kill  two." 


THE   FIGHT  AT  THE  OLD   SWAN  103 

"Oh,  they  will  not  die,"  she  answered  seriously.  "I 
was  haunted  by  the  fear  that  they  might,  so  I  got  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  took  father  and  one  of  the  boys 
with  a  link,  and  went  to  the  hospital,  where  I  learned  that 
they  will  recover." 

"Show  me  to  Hamilton's  room,  Betty,  and  bring  two 
lobsters  there  instead  of  one.  He  and  I  will  have  dinner 
together,"  I  said,  turning  to  go  with  her. 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  want  to  eat,  though  I  doubt  if  his 
lack  of  appetite  is  owing  wholly  to  his  wounds,"  she  re- 
plied, as  we  were  leaving  the  tap-room. 

"How  long  has  he  been  here  ?"  I  asked. 

"Since  yesterday  noon,"  she  answered.  "He  came  just 
in  time  to  find  trouble.  An  hour  ago  I  took  a  bowl  of 
broth  to  him  and  a  plate  of  sparrow-grass,  but  he  said  dole- 
fully that  the  food  would  stick  in  his  throat.  I  told  him 
he  was  not  wounded  in  the  throat.  Then  he  said  it  was 
in  his  heart,  and  that  such  a  wound  kills  the  appetite.  I 
believe  he's  in  love,  Baron  Ned,"  she  concluded,  leaning 
toward  me  and  whispering  earnestly. 

"With  you,  Betty?"  I  asked. 

"No,  no,  with  some  one  else." 

"Would  it  make  you  unhappy?"  I  asked. 

"To  be  in  love  ?"  she  asked,  arching  her  eyebrows. 

"No.     For  him  to  be  in  love,"  I  said. 

"If  he  is  unhappily  so,  I  should  be  sorry,"  she  answered. 

"And  you  would  not  be  jealous?"  I  asked. 

"Ah,  Baron  Ned  !"   she  returned,  protestingly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING 

WHEN  we  knocked  at  Hamilton's  door,  he  answered, 
"Come,"  and  I  entered,  Betty  closing  the  door 
behind  me,  leaving  George  and  me  together.  He 
was  lying  on  the  bed,  his  head  and  arms  bandaged,  and  a 
feverish  gleam  shining  in  his  eyes.  I  went  toward  him, 
offering  my  hand.  He  rose  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  but  did  not  accept  my  greeting.  I  was  about  to 
speak  when  he  lifted  his  hand  to  interrupt  me,  saying 
coldly :  — 

"Well,  Clyde,  what  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  to  see  you  and  help  you,  if  I  can,"  I  answered, 
in  surprise. 

"Now  that  you  have  seen  me,  you  may  go,"  he  returned. 

I  did  not  know  the  cause  of  his  ill  feeling,  though  I 
knew  that  something  had  happened  to  turn  him  against 
me,  so  I  stood  my  ground  and  answered :  — 

"I  shall  go  if  you  insist,  but  before  I  go,  please  tell  me 
in  what  manner  I  have  offended  you.  Neither  you  nor  I 
have  so  many  friends  that  we  can  afford  to  lose  one  with- 
out an  effort  to  save  him.  The  world  is  full  of  men  and 
women,  but  a  friend  is  a  gift  of  God.  I  thought  you  had 
forgiven  me  what  I  said  at  Sundridge.  Your  time  to  take 
offence  was  then,  not  now." 

"I  hold  no  ill  will  for  what  you  said  then  in  my  hearing. 
It  is  what  you  have  done  in  so  cowardly  a  manner  since  I 

104 


SWEET   BETTY   PICKERING  105 

last  saw  you,  and  at  a  time  when  I  was  not  present  to  hear 
or  to  resent  it." 

"But  what  have  I  done  ?"  I  asked. 

"You  should  know.     I  don't,"  he  answered,  sullenly. 

"If  neither  you  nor  I  know  what  I  have  done  to  offend, 
how  are  we  to  settle  this  matter?  How  may  I  apologize 
or  make  amends  ?"  I  asked. 

"You  can't,"  he  returned. 

"Ah,  but  I  can  and  I  will,  George  Hamilton,"  I  answered, 
determined  not  to  let  him  put  me  off  without  knowing 
wherein  I  had  offended.  "Save  what  you  heard  at  Sun- 
dridge,  I  have  neither  done  nor  said  anything  unfit  to  come 
from  a  friend.  If  any  man  has  reported  me  otherwise,  he 
has  lied.  If  any  woman  —  well,  she  is  mistaken." 

"No  one  has  reported  you  otherwise  or  any  wise,"  he 
answered. 

"Then  tell  me  the  cause  of  your  grievance,  and  I  may 
be  able  to  explain  or  deny.  You  perhaps  know  by  this 
time  that  I  always  speak  the  truth  to  you,  so  out  with  it, 
George.  Let  us  settle  this  matter,  whatever  it  be  —  one 
way  or  the  other.  Friendship  should  not  be  left  to 
dangle  between  love  and  hatred.  It  sits  squarely  on  the 
heart  of  an  honest  man,  or  is  cast  out  candidly  and  above 
board.  Shall  I  sit  down  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  rising  from  the  bed,  drawing  the 
rug  up  over  his  shoulders,  and  taking  a  chair  not  far  from 
where  I  was  sitting.  "I  saw  your  cousin  — " 

"  When  and  where  ?"  I  interrupted. 

"Yesterday,  in  this  house,"  he  replied. 

"Did  she  come  to  see  you?  And  did  you  permit  her  to 
come?"  I  asked,  finding  it  my  turn  to  be  angry. 

"No,  she  did  not  come  to  see  me,  nor  had  I  anything  to  do 
with  her  visit  to  the  Old  Swan.  She  was  eating  dinner  with 
Nell  Gwynn,  and — " 


io6          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"Was  she  the  duchess,  of  whom  Betty  told  me ?"  I  asked, 
interrupting  him. 

"Yes,  the  Duchess  of  Hearts,  as  I  hear  she  has  been 
dubbed  at  court,"  he  answered,  with  an  angry  gleam  in  his 
eyes  and  a  sharp  note  of  contempt  in  his  voice. 

"And  was  it  for  her  you  fought?"  I  asked,  feeling  as 
though  I  was  reading  a  page  from  a  story-book.  "Betty 
told  me  about  it,  but  you  tell  me,  please  ?" 

"Betty  usually  exhausts  a  subject,  so  there  is  no  need  to 
tell  you  about  the  fight,"  he  said.  "It  was  really  a  small 
affair,  and  my  wounds  are  nothing  to  speak  of.  I  suffered 
more  from  other  causes." 

"Yes,  yes,  George.  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  I  returned, 
drawing  my  chair  nearer  to  him.  "  I  fear  a  mistake  has  been 
made,  a  misunderstanding  of  some  sort,  though  I  cannot 
imagine  even  the  sort.  Now,  tell  me." 

"I  came  up  from  Sheerness  on  a  Dutch  boat  and  landed 
at  Deptford  yesterday  morning,"  he  began  hesitatingly. 
"After  sending  a  messenger  on  business  in  which  I  was  deeply 
interested,  I  came  to  the  Old  Swan  to  get  a  bite  to  eat  and 
to  find  a  bed.  While  waiting  in  the  tap-room  for  my  dinner, 
I  recognized  Nelly's  laugh  and  went  into  the  private  dining 
room  to  see  her,  hoping  that  she  might  drop  a  word  con- 
cerning another  person.  I  should  not  have  gone  to  see  her, 
for  while  in  France  I  had  heard  from  De  Grammont,  with 
whom  I  have  had  some  correspondence,  that  I  was  out  of 
favor  with  the  king  and  that  Crofts  had  been  trying  to  fix 
on  me  the  guilt  of  a  crime  which  he  himself  committed. 

"Grammont  wrote  me,  also,  of  the  triumphs  of  Mistress 
Jennings,  the  new  beauty  of  the  court,  but  I  paid  little  heed 
to  the  gossip,  though  I  confess  I  was  thrown  into  great  fear 
by  what  he  wrote  about  her.  I  knew  also  that  the  king 
would  help  Crofts  make  trouble  for  me,  so  I  felt  it  was  just 
as  well  that  my  presence  in  London  should  remain  unknown. 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  107 

But  I  did  go  in  to  see  Nelly,  and,  much  to  my  surprise,  found 
the  other  person." 

It  was  to  my  surprise,  also,  but  I  said  only:  "Yes,  yes, 
George.  Your  story  is  growing  interesting.  Proceed  ! " 

After  a  moment,  he  continued  :  "Nelly  offered  to  present 
me  to  the  other  person,  whom  she  designated  as  '  the  king's 
new  favorite.'  Naturally  I  said  that  I  already  had  the  honor 
of  knowing  Mistress  Jennings.  Then  your  cousin  looked  up 
to  me  and  remarked  calmly  that  I  was  mistaken ;  that  I  did 
not  have  the  honor  of  knowing  her,  nor  she  the  humiliation 
of  knowing  me.  So  I  made  my  bow,  went  back  to  the  tap- 
room, and  in  a  moment  the  fight  occurred,  of  which  you 
already  know." 

"But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  your  grievance  against 
me  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  turned  his  face  away  from  me,  looked  out  the  window 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  answered  :  "These  are  my  causes  of 
offence,  Baron  Clyde.  You  have  brought  your  cousin,  your 
own  flesh  and  blood,  to  Whitehall  to  sell  her  to  the  king, 
and—" 

"That  is  a  lie,  Hamilton  !"  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet, 
"and,  by  God,  you  shall  answer  for  it  as  soon  as  you  are  able 
to  hold  a  sword  !" 

"I  shall  be  very  willing,"  he  returned,  though  it  was  evi- 
dent he  was  somewhat  cooled  by  my  anger.  "But  since 
you  would  know  the  cause  of  my  ill-feeling,  sit  down  and 
hear  what  I  have  to  say." 

I  resumed  my  chair,  and  he  continued:  "I  can  see  no 
reason  for  your  cousin's  strange  aversion  to  me  save  that 
you  have  used  well  the  time  of  my  absence  in  traducing  me, 
hoping  doubtless  to  smooth  the  king's  path  by  removing 
me  from  her  thoughts." 

What  he  said  did  little  to  allay  my  anger  until  I  looked 
into  his  face  and  saw  that  by  reason  of  his  fever  and  his 


io8          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

great  trouble,  he  was  not  responsible  for  his  words.  I  had 
been  on  the  point  of  giving  him  the  lie  the  second  time,  but 
after  a  moment's  consideration,  my  anger  changed  to  pity, 
and  I  said  :  — 

"Forgive  me,  Hamilton.  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  in  anger. 
You  did  not  lie.  You  have  been  simply  jumping  at  conclu- 
sions." 

"Perhaps,"  he  answered  wanderingly. 

"But  if  I  tell  you,  upon  my  honor,  that  you  are  mistaken, 
will  you  believe  me?"  I  asked,  still  feeling  a  touch  of  irri- 
tation. 

He  did  not  answer,  so,  thinking  to  give  him  one  more 
chance,  I  continued  gently:  "I  have  neither  harbored  an 
unkind  thought  of  you  nor  spoken  an  unkind  word  of  you 
since  the  day  we  parted  at  Sundridge.  On  the  contrary,  I 
believed  that  the  hot  moment  there  had  welded  a  friendship 
between  us  which  would  last  all  our  lives  through." 

He  walked  over  to  the  window,  stood  looking  out  a  mo- 
ment, then  came  back  and  resumed  his  chair  before  me. 

"I  do  not  favor  your  suit  with  my  cousin  to  any  greater 
extent  than  I  did  when  we  were  at  Sundridge,"  I  continued, 
determined  that  there  should  be  no  misunderstanding  of  my 
position  in  that  respect,  "though  since  that  time  I  have 
learned  that  you  are  a  far  better  man  than  I  had  ever  sup- 
posed. I  have  not  recommended  my  cousin  to  the  king, 
nor  is  she  his  favorite  in  the  sense  you  seem  to  believe.  I  do 
not  know  the  cause  of  her  aversion  to  you,  and,  sir,  I  have 
nothing  else  to  say  except  that  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you 
know  I  speak  the  truth.  This  is  my  explanation.  It  is 
for  you  to  say  whether  you  accept  or  reject  it." 

I  rose,  giving  him  to  understand  that  I  was  ready  to  take 
my  leave,  but  he  motioned  me  to  resume  my  chair.  After 
gazing  vacantly  out  the  window  for  a  moment,  he  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands  and  answered  :  — 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  109 

"I  accept  your  explanation  gladly,  Baron  Ned.  I  have 
wronged  you.  I  have  been  in  such  turmoil  of  mind  and 
conscience  for  so  long  a  time  that  I  am  hardly  responsible, 
and  now  I  suppose  I  am  in  a  fever  because  of  the  loss  of 
blood." 

I  resumed  my  chair,  the  difference  being  settled  between 
us,  and  in  a  moment  we  began  to  discuss  the  cause  of  Fran- 
ces's sudden  change. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  I  knew  nothing  all  this  time 
of  Hamilton's  remote  connection  with  Roger  Wentworth's 
murder.  The  dimly  hinted  rumors  that  had  reached  my  ears 
I  had  put  down  to  Crofts's  desire  for  a  scapegoat,  and  the 
conversation  between  Frances  and  Nelly,  and  Nelly's  con- 
clusions, all  came  to  me  after  this  interview  with  Hamilton. 

Failing  to  reach  any  conclusion  after  a  long  discussion  of 
the  subject,  Hamilton  and  I  began  to  speak  on  other  topics, 
and  I  asked  him  where  he  had  been  and  what  he  had  been 
doing. 

"I  have  been  at  the  French  court,  gambling  furiously,  and 
hoarding  my  money,"  he  answered.  "I  have  not  even 
bought  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  have  turned  every  piece  of  lace 
and  every  jewel  I  possessed  into  cash." 

"I  supposed  you  were  leaving  off  some  of  your  old  ways, 
gambling  among  them,"  I  remarked,  sorry  to  hear  of  his 
fall  from  grace. 

"And  so  I  have,"  he  answered.  "But  I  wanted  a  thou- 
sand pounds  to  use  in  a  good  cause,  and  felt  that  I  was  doing 
no  wrong  to  rob  a  very  bad  Peter  in  France  to  pay  a  very 
good  Paul  at  home.  I  have  paid  the  good  Paul,  and  am 
now  done  with  cards  and  dice  forever." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  George,"  I  returned. 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,"  he  continued.  Then  he 
gave  me  an  account  of  the  killing  of  Roger  Wentworth,  the 
particulars  of  which  I  then  learned  for  the  first  time. 


i  io    THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

I  allowed  him  to  proceed  in  his  narrative  without  inter- 
ruption, and  he  finished  by  saying :  "I  learned  that  same 
evening  that  a  thousand  pounds  had  been  stolen  from  a 
traveller.  I  suspected  Crofts,  Wentworth,  and  Berkeley  of 
the  robbery,  but  I  did  not  know  certainly  that  they  had 
committed  the  crime,  since  I  did  not  see  them  do  it.  The 
next  morning  I  learned  that  a  man  had  been  killed  by  high- 
waymen, and  as  I  felt  sure  that  the  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted in  the  affair  I  had  witnessed,  I  went  to  France  be- 
cause I  did  not  want  to  be  called  to  testify  in  case  criminal 
proceedings  were  instituted.  In  France  I  learned  that  the 
murdered  man  was  young  Wentworth's  uncle. 

"Of  course,  I  did  not  receive  a  farthing  of  the  money,  but 
I  almost  felt  that  I  was  accessory  before  the  fact  because  I 
had  not  hastened  to  prevent  the  crime,  and  after  the  fact 
because  I  had  made  no  effort  to  bring  the  criminals  to  jus- 
tice. Churchill  told  me  flatly  that  I  should  be  alone  if  I 
tried  the  latter,  and  said  that  he  was  not  so  great  a  fool  as 
to  win  the  enmity  of  the  king  by  attempting  to  bring  the 
law  upon  Crofts.  You  know  Churchill's  maxim,  'A  fool 
conscience  and  a  fool  damned.'" 

"There  is  wisdom  in  it,"  I  answered. 

"I  suppose  there  is,"  returned  Hamilton.  "I  wanted  the 
thousand  pounds  to  pay  Roger  Wentworth's  widow,  so  I 
won  it  in  France,  brought  it  to  England,  and  yesterday  sent 
it  by  a  trusted  messenger  to  Sundridge.  Of  course  the  widow 
does  not  know  where  it  came  from." 

"It  was  like  you,  George,"  said  I.  "One  does  not  do  a 
thing  of  that  sort  for  sake  of  a  reward,  but,  believe  me,  the 
reward  always  comes." 

"It  was  the  right  thing  to  do,"  he  answered.  "But  in- 
stead of  the  reward  comes  now  the  keenest  grief  I  have  ever 
known,  the  loss  of  the  small  regard  in  which  I  was  one  time 
held  by  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved  or  ever  shall  love." 


SWEET   BETTY   PICKERING  in 

He  stopped  speaking,  but  I  fancied  he  had  not  finished,  so 
I  did  not  interrupt  him.  I  had  so  much  to  say  in  return  that 
I  did  not  care  to  begin  until  I  had  a  clear  field.  He  was 
becoming  restless,  and  I  could  see  that  the  fever  was  mount- 
ing rapidly.  After  a  long  pause  he  continued  :  — 

"But,  in  a  way,  the  loss  of  her  regard  is  the  least  of  my 
troubles,  and  I  should  bear  it  with  equanimity,  for  if  I  am 
honest  with  her,  I  would  not  desire  to  keep  it,  as  I  can  bring 
her  no  happiness.  It  is  the  loss  of  my  respect  for  her,  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  wrong  in  deeming  her  better  than 
other  women,  the  humiliation  of  learning  that  I  was  a  piti- 
able dupe  in  giving  my  love  to  one  who  could  give  herself 
to  Charles  Stuart,  that  hurts." 

I  saw  that  he  was  trying  to  suppress  his  excitement,  but 
it  soon  got  the  better  of  him.  He  rose  from  his  chair, 
drew  the  rug  closer  about  him,  and  walked  rapidly  to  and 
fro  across  the  room  a  minute  or  two.  Being  near  my 
chair,  he  bent  down  to  me,  looked  wildly  about  him  to 
see  that  no  one  was  eavesdropping,  and  whispered :  — 

"I  intend  to  kill  the  king  just  as  soon  as  I'm  out  of  this. 
Then  God  or  the  devil,  I  care  not  which,  may  finish  me." 

At  that  moment  Betty  came  in,  followed  by  one  of  the 
maids  carrying  our  dinner.  I  asked  George  to  eat  with 
me,  but  he  refused  and  lay  down  on  the  bed,  drawing  the 
rugs  up  to  his  chin  and  shaking  in  an  ague.  The  maid  left 
us,  but  Betty  remained,  evidently  expecting  to  wait  on  us 
and  incidentally  to  talk,  for  she  dearly  loved  to  relieve  her 
mind. 

As  much  as  I  liked  Betty,  I  asked  her  to  leave  us,  and 
when  she  was  gone,  I  drew  my  chair  to  George's  bedside, 
leaving  the  dinner  to  cool. 

" First,  I  want  to  tell  you  again,"  said  I,  "that  Frances 
is  not  the  king's  mistress,  nor  ever  will  be." 

"Do  you  know,  or  do  you  believe?"  he  asked. 


ii2          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"I  know,"  I  answered,  and  followed  up  my  assertion 
with  a  full  account  of  her  life  at  court,  the  king's  infatua- 
tion, at  which  she  laughed,  his  offer  of  a  pension,  which  at 
first  she  refused,  the  respect  in  which  every  one  held  her, 
and  the  wisdom  with  which  she  carried  herself  through  it 
all. 

"Ned,  you're  as  great  a  fool  about  her  as  I  was,"  he 
returned,  shaking  his  head.  "Do  you  suppose  Charles 
Stuart  would  give  her  a  pension  with  no  other  purpose 
than  kindness  or  justice  ?  Be  sane  !  Don't  be  a  fool !" 

"I  say  nothing  of  his  purposes;  I  speak  only  of  her 
conduct.  But  I  shall  not  argue  with  you.  If  you  find 
any  pleasure  in  your  opinion,  keep  it,"  I  answered,  know- 
ing that  I  could  not  reason  with  a  man  who  was  half  crazy. 

"  I  shall,"  he  replied  sullenly. 

"But  there  is  another  matter  in  which  I  believe  you  will 
agree  with  me,"  I  continued.  "I  have  discovered  the 
cause  of  my  cousin's  ill  feeling  —  of  her  change  respecting 
yourself." 

He  rose  from  his  bed,  demanding  excitedly:  "What  is 
it?  Tell  me,  tell  me!" 

"You  have  just  told  me  that  you  and  Churchill  were 
walking  at  a  considerable  distance  behind  Crofts  and  the 
others  when  Roger  Wentworth  was  killed." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  returned.  "Perhaps  as  much  as  two 
hundred  yards." 

I  watched  his  face  closely  to  study  the  effect  of  my  next 
bit  of  information,  and  after  a  long  pause,  asked,  "Do 
you  know  that  Frances  was  in  the  coach?" 

"No,  no  !  Hell  and  furies !  In  the  coach  when  Went- 
worth was  killed?  My  God,  tell  me  all  about  it,  man  !" 
he  cried,  clutching  my  arm,  and  glaring  at  me  with  the 
eyes  of  a  crazy  man. 

"Yes,"  I  answered.    "And  she  tells  me  she  recognized 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  113 

one  of  the  robbers  by  the  light  of  the  coach  lanthorn, 
though  she  refused  to  describe  the  man  she  saw  and  will 
not  be  induced  to  talk  about  him.  Possibly  you  were  the 
unlucky  man.  If  true,  can  you  wonder  that  she  hates 
you?" 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  musing,  then  fell 
back  on  the  pillow  with  a  great  sigh,  and  muttered  as 
though  speaking  to  himself :  — 

"I  can  wonder  at  nothing  save  my  marvellous  ill  luck. 
This  tale  points  a  moral,  Baron  Ned.  If  one  belongs  to 
the  devil,  one  should  stand  by  one's  master.  Hell  is  swifter 
in  revenge  than  heaven  in  reward." 

"It  is  only  the  long  run  that  tells  the  tale,"  I  answered, 
taking  his  hot  hand  to  soothe  him.  "Heaven  always  wins, 
and  your  reward  will  come." 

"Ah,  yes,  the  long  run  is  all  right  if  one  can  only  hold 
out,"  he  answered,  gripping  my  hand  and  breathing  rapidly. 
He  was  almost  in  delirium.  "But  I'll  take  the  short  run, 
Baron  Ned."  Here  his  voice  rose  almost  to  a  scream : 
"  I'll  take  the  short  run,  Ned,  and  will  kill  the  king ! 
Then  to  hell  after  him  by  way  of  Tyburn  Hill !" 

He  sprang  to  me,  grasped  my  shoulders  fiercely,  and 
spoke  as  one  in  a  frenzy :  "I  was  right,  Ned.  She  is  all  I 
thought  she  was  at  Sundridge.  When  I  first  knew  her  I 
doubted  my  senses.  I  did  not  know  there  was  a  pure 
woman  outside  of  a  convent,  but  when  I  learned  to  know 
her  I  changed  my  mind.  Now  comes  this  accursed  Charles 
Stuart !  His  house  has  been  a  bane  to  England  ever  since 
the  spawn  of  the  Scotch  courtesan  first  came  to  London. 
But  his  reign  will  be  short !" 

He  was  becoming  delirious,  so  I  induced  him  to  lie  on 
the  bed  while  I  went  downstairs  to  find  Betty.  When  I 
found  her,  I  told  her  that  the  fever  was  mounting  to  Hamil- 
ton's brain,  and  that  I  feared  he  would  soon  become  violent. 

7 


ii4          THE  TOUCHSTONE   OF   FORTUNE 

She  sent  a  boy  to  fetch  a  physician,  then  turned  to  me, 
saying :  — 

"I'll  go  up  to  him.     I  believe  I  can  quiet  him." 

So  we  went  back  to  George's  room  and  found  him  out 
of  bed,  prowling  about  like  a  caged  wild  thing,  tossing  his 
arms,  and  shouting  his  intention  to  kill  the  king. 

"You  must  go  back  to  bed,  Master  Hamilton,"  com- 
manded Betty  in  her  soft,  low  voice. 

He  caught  her  around  the  waist  and  said,  laughing, 
"You're  a  good  girl,  Betty." 

"I  hope  I  am,  sir.  But  you  must  go  back  to  bed,"  she 
answered. 

"And  you're  pretty,  too.  Pretty  and  good  don't  usually 
go  together,"  said  George,  drawing  her  close  to  him. 

"No,  but  you  must  go  back  to  bed,  Master  Hamilton, 
or  you  will  be  very  ill,"  she  pleaded. 

"I'll  go  for  a  kiss,  Betty,"  he  answered,  bending  over  to 
take  it.  But  she  put  up  her  hands  to  ward  him  off. 

"I'll  give  you  the  kiss,  Master  Hamilton,  if  you  insist. 
But  it  will  be  only  a  bribe  to  induce  you  to  do  what  is  for 
your  own  good,  and  if  you  take  it,  I  shall  never  come  back 
to  your  room  again." 

"Ah,  Ned,  here's  another  good  girl !"  exclaimed  George, 
releasing  Betty.  "There  are  two  of  them  in  the  world  ! 
Who  would  have  suspected  it  ?  Keep  your  kisses  for  your 
husband,  Betty." 

"Yes,  Master  Hamilton,"  she  answered  demurely,  giving 
me  a  luminous  glance,  all  unconscious  of  its  meaning. 
The  glance  was  my  first  hint  that  perhaps  Betty  had  at 
times  been  thinking  of  me. 

"All  right !    Here's  to  bed,  my  girl,"  said  Hamilton. 

She  smoothed  the  bed  covering  and  turning  to  leave 
the  room,  said,  "I'll  come  back  when  the  physician 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  115 

I  could  easily  see  that  Hamilton  was  going  to  have  what 
the  old  women  call  a  "bad  night,"  so  I  asked  Betty  to  sit 
with  him,  and  she  consenting,  I  went  by  river  to  my  lodg- 
ing in  Whitehall,  where  I  collected  a  few  necessary  articles 
in  a  bag  and  returned  quickly  as  possible  to  the  Old  Swan. 
When  I  reached  George's  room,  I  found  Betty  at  her  post. 
The  physician  had  given  Hamilton  a  quieting  potion,  and 
he  was  resting,  though  at  intervals  he  broke  out,  shouting 
his  intention  to  kill  the  king. 

During  nearly  two  weeks  Hamilton  lay  moaning  and 
raving,  sweet,  dear  Betty  rarely  leaving  his  side  for  more 
than  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  I,  too,  clung  to  my  post 
faithfully,  but  at  least  a  part  of  my  motive  in  doing  so 
was  selfish,  being  the  joy  I  found  in  Betty's  company.  At 
the  end  of  two  weeks  George  began  to  recover  rapidly,  and 
I  was  dismissed  along  with  the  physician. 

When  I  returned  to  Whitehall,  I  found  that  my  Lord 
Sandwich,  under  whom  I  held  my  place  as  Second  Gentle- 
man of  the  Wardrobe,  had  been  seeking  me.  The  king 
had  gone  to  Sheerness  on  business  of  the  navy  two  weeks 
before,  and  the  Earl  of  Sandwich,  being  at  that  time  Lord 
Admiral,  was  to  go  down  the  river  on  a  summons  from  his 
Majesty.  Much  against  my  will,  I  was  compelled  to  go 
with  him,  and,  by  reason  of  this  enforced  absence,  was  away 
from  London  during  the  next  month  or  two,  when  I  very 
much  wished  to  be  there. 

I  saw  Frances  only  twice  during  George's  illness,  and  as 
she  made  no  inquiries  about  him,  I  concluded  that  sober 
thought  had  brought  back  her  old  aversion.  Therefore  I 
did  not  mention  his  name  nor  try  to  correct  her  error,  feel- 
ing that  it  was  better  for  her  to  remain  in  her  present  state 
of  mind. 

I  was  convinced  that  Hamilton's  threats  against  the  life 
of  the  king  were  but  the  ravings  of  a  frenzied  brain,  and 


ii6          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

that  he  had  no  intention  of  killing  Charles,  but  I  also  felt 
sure  that  trouble  would  come  of  it,  since  he  had  been  over- 
heard by  several  persons.  The  treason  was  certain  to 
reach  the  king's  ear,  and  if  it  did,  Hamilton's  life  would  be 
in  jeopardy.  But  of  that  in  its  turn. 

Immediately  on  my  return  to  London  I  went  down  to 
the  Old  Swan  to  see  George,  of  course  having  Betty  in 
mind.  In  truth,  Betty  had  been  in  mind  most  of  the  time 
and  much  to  my  regret  ever  since  the  day  I  left  her.  • 

Even  if  I  had  not  been  plighted  to  Mary  Hamilton,  I 
could  not  have  asked  Betty  to  be  my  wife.  She  would  not 
be  happy  in  my  sphere  of  life,  and  I  could  not  live  in  hers. 
The  painful  knowledge  of  this  truth  did  not  in  any  way 
help  me  to  put  her  out  of  my  thoughts,  but  rather  made 
my  longing  for  her  all  the  greater.  Since  I  had  learned  to 
know  her  well,  I  thought  I  meant  honestly  by  her.  Still 
she  was  a  barmaid,  and  I  could  not  always  bring  myself  to 
respect  her  as  she  deserved.  Time  and  again  I  resolved 
in  all  sincerity  never  to  see  her  again.  Since  I  could  not 
marry  her,  I  would  gain  nothing  but  unhappiness  myself 
and  perhaps  misery  for  her  by  continuing  my  suit. 

But  when  back  in  London,  I  persuaded  myself  that  it 
was  my  duty  to  see  George,  and  tried  to  shut  my  eyes  to 
the  fact  that  Betty  was  the  real  cause  of  my  anxiety. 

When  I  reached  the  Old  Swan,  I  soon  found  Betty,  and 
there  could  be  no  mistake  in  my  reading  of  the  light  I  saw 
in  her  eyes. 

After  talking  with  her  a  minute  or  two  in  the  tap-room,  I 
asked  her  to  tell  me  of  Hamilton,  and  she  said  hesitatingly 
that  he  had  left  the  inn  nearly  two  months  ago. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  answered  hesitatingly,  "N-o-o-o." 

I  saw  that  she  did  not  want  to  be  questioned,  so  I  re- 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  117 

mained  chatting  with  her  for  an  hour,  and  returned  to 
Whitehall,  very  proud  that  I  had  restrained  my  tongue 
during  the  interview. 

On  the  afternoon  following  my  interview  with  Betty,!  was 
sitting  in  my  room  adjoining  my  Lord's  private  closet  in 
the  Wardrobe,  trying  in  vain  to  think  of  something  besides 
Betty,  when  I  heard  a  peal  of  merry  laughter,  which  I 
recognized  as  Nelly  Gwynn's.  Immediately  following,  I 
heard  the  deep,  unmistakable  voice  of  the  king.  They  had 
just  entered  my  Lord's  private  closet,  between  which  and 
my  room  there  was  a  loosely  hung  door,  permitting  me  to 
hear  all  that  was  said. 

"Ah,  Rowley,"  said  Nell.  "You  have  been  away  from 
me  a  long  weary  time,  and  I  know  you  have  forgotten  me." 

The  king  denied  the  charge,  and  doubtless  took  his  own 
way  to  convince  her. 

"While  you  have  been  away,  I  have  found  a  new  friend 
to  console  me,"  said  Nelly. 

"Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  king,  with  suddenly  awakened  in- 
terest. 

"Yes,"  returned  Nelly. 

"  Is  your  new  friend  a  man  or  a  woman  ?  "  asked  Charles. 

"A  woman,  of  course,  oh,  jealous  heart !  You  know  there 
is  but  one  man  in  the  world  for  me  —  your  ugly  self." 

"Who  is  your  friend  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"I'll  give  you  three  guesses.  You  admire  her  greatly," 
said  Nelly. 

"Indeed,  it  must  be  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury's  lady," 
suggested  his  Majesty. 

"Surely!"  exclaimed  Nell,  with  a  merry  laugh.  "But 
guess  again." 

When  the  king  had  exhausted  his  three  guesses,  she  said 
triumphantly,  "My  new  friend's  name  is  Frances  Jennings." 


n8    THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Ah,  indeed  ! "  exclaimed  the  king.  "  She  will  have  noth- 
ing to  say  to  my  friends,  Lady  Castlemain  and  others,  and  I 
supposed  she  would  be  too  nice  and  proper  to  choose  you  for 
her  friend." 

"No,  no,"  returned  Nelly.  " She  is  my  first  friend  among 
the  court  ladies.  We  have  had  several  rare  adventures  to- 
gether, and  don't  you  know,  I  have  discovered  that  she  is 
in  love." 

"With  whom  ?  "  demanded  the  king. 

"With  your  friend  and  mine,  George  Hamilton,"  returned 
Nelly. 

"Ah,  well,  he  is  in  France,  and  we  shall  see  that  he  re- 
mains there,"  said  the  king. 

"No,  he  is  not  in  France.  He  is  in  London,"  said  Nelly. 
"I  saw  him  at  the  Old  Swan  just  before  you  left  for  Sheer- 
ness,  nearly  two  months  ago." 

"Odds  fish  !"  swore  his  Majesty.  "We'll  find  a  mission 
for  him  abroad." 

"You'll  have  to  find  him  first,"  said  Nelly.  "I've  been 
down  to  the  Old  Swan  to  see  him,  but  the  girl  there  tells  me 
he  left  the  tavern  long  ago,  and  I  suspect  he  is  at  his  broth- 
er's house  near  St.  Albans.  But  I'll  tell  you  further." 

Then  she  told  the  king  what  Frances  had  said  about  a 
mysterious  man  whom  Nelly  asserted  Frances  both  hated 
and  loved.  She  told  him  also  that  Frances  had  recognized 
one  of  the  highwaymen  who  had  robbed  Roger  Wentworth, 
and  closed  her  narrative  with  an  account  of  my  cousin's 
refusal  to  recognize  Hamilton  and  her  eagerness  to  explain 
to  him  after  the  fight. 

"  So  you  see,  Rowley  dear,  I  put  this  and  that  together 
and  concluded  that  Frances  Jennings  loves  George  Hamilton 
because  she  can't  help  it,  and  hates  him  because  she  recog- 
nized him  as  one  of  the  murderers  of  Roger  Wentworth. 
She  did  not  say  that  this  is  all  true,  nor  will  she  talk  on  the 


SWEET   BETTY  PICKERING  119 

subject,  but  one  may  see  through  a  millstone  with  a  hole 
in  it." 

"Perhaps  Hamilton's  complicity  in  the  crime  may  save 
us  the  trouble  of  sending  him  abroad,"  said  the  king.  "We 
may  be  able  to  hang  him  instead." 

"  Surely  you  would  not  hang  him  for  so  small  an  offence  ? 
The  murdered  man  was  only  a  tanner  !"  cried  Nelly,  fear- 
ing she  had  brought  trouble  on  Hamilton  by  her  gossip. 

"Of  course,  if  there  were  no  reason  save  the  demands  of 
grasping  justice,  we  should  not  trouble  ourselves  to  look  into 
the  matter,"  said  Charles,  "but  stern  justice,  if  used  and  not 
abused,  is  often  a  ready  help  to  kings." 

Charles  laughed,  doubtless  showing  his  yellow  fangs,  as 
was  his  habit  when  uttering  a  cruel  jest,  and  Nelly  began  to 
coax  him,  hoping  to  avert  the  unforeseen  trouble  she  hu,d  set 
afoot.  At  last  the  king  promised  that  he  would  take  no 
steps  against  Hamilton,  but  I  knew  that  royal  promises 
were  never  worth  the  breath  they  cost  in  making. 

As  soon  as  Nelly  and  the  king  left  my  lord's  closet,  I 
hastened  to  the  river  and  took  a  boat  for  the  Old  Swan,  in- 
tending to  find  Hamilton  and  to  warn  him. 

When  I  told  Betty  that  I  wanted  to  see  Hamilton  on  an 
affair  of  great  urgency,  she  admitted  that  she  knew  where 
he  was,  and  that  she  had  refused  to  tell  me  when  I  asked  her 
the  last  time  because  he  had  exacted  a  promise  from  her  to 
tell  no  one. 

"But  I  shall  see  him,"  said  Betty,  "and  if  you  will  come 
back  to-morrow,  I'll  tell  you  where  he  can  be  found  if  he 
consents.'' 

During  the  last  month  or  two  a  News  Letter  had  been  cir- 
culated by  thousands  throughout  London  and  Westminster, 
in  which  the  character  of  the  king  had  been  assailed  with 
great  bitterness.  At  first  Charles  paid  no  attention  to  the 


120          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

new  journal,  but  soon  its  attacks  got  under  his  skin.  I  was 
told  that  efforts  had  been  made  to  discover  the  publisher 
and  his  printing  shop,  but  that  nothing  could  be  learned 
save  that  the  sheets  were  left  at  taverns  and  bookstalls  by 
boys  who  declared  they  found  them  in  bundles  in  the  church- 
yards. 

It  was  impossible  to  find  even  the  boys.  The  bookstalls 
and  taverns  were  ordered  not  to  sell  the  News  Letter,  but  the 
people  hated  the  king  so  bitterly  that  the  circulation  in- 
creased rather  than  diminished  after  the  royal  interdict,  and 
as  the  sheets  sold  for  the  extravagant  price  of  one  shilling, 
it  was  impossible  to  stop  the  sale,  since  every  one  who  han- 
dled them  was  making  a  rich  profit. 

Judging  from  many  articles  appearing  in  the  News  Letter, 
I  suspected  that  Hamilton  was  a  contributor,  if  not  the 
editor.  If  either,  he  was  piling  up  trouble,  should  he  be 
discovered. 

On  leaving  the  Old  Swan,  I  went  back  to  the  palace  and 
met  Frances  at  the  Holbein  Gate,  cloaked  and  bonneted, 
ready  to  go  to  see  her  father. 

I  offered  to  accompany  her,  and  we  took  a  coach  at  Char- 
ing Cross  for  Sir  Richard's  house.  , 

My  conscience  had  troubled  me  because  I  had  done  noth- 
ing to  clear  Hamilton  of  her  unjust  suspicions.  Up  to  that 
time  I  had  found  no  opportunity  to  speak  to  her  privately 
after  my  return  from  Sheerness,  nor  had  I  fully  made  up  my 
mind  to  try  to  convince  her  that  George  was  not  guilty  of 
Roger's  death.  But  when  she  and  I  entered  the  coach  to  go 
to  her  father's  house,  I  broached  the  subject :  — 

"You  remember,  cousin,"  I  began,  "what  I  said  to  you 
in  Hamilton's  presence  on  the  Bourne  Path?" 

"Every  word,"  she  replied.  "It  was  all  true,  and  I  shall 
be  grateful  so  long  as  I  live." 

"But  what  I  said  at  that  time  did  not  seem  to  cause  you 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  121 

to  hate  him?"  I  continued,  wondering  what  her  reply 
would  be. 

" No,"  she  answered,  with  slight  hesitancy.     "  It  did  not." 

"Is  the  aversion  you  now  feel  toward  him  the  result  of 
what  I  said  at  that  time  ?"  I  asked. 

"No,  no,"  she  returned  quickly.  Then  suddenly  check- 
ing herself,  she  demanded,  "Why  do  you  speak  of  my  aver- 
sion to  him,  and  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

I  told  her  that  I  knew  all  the  particulars  of  her  meeting 
with  Hamilton  at  the  Old  Swan,  of  her  refusal  to  recognize 
him  and  of  the  fight  that  ensued.  I  told  her  of  my  talk  with 
him,  at  the  beginning  of  his  sickness,  two  weeks  before  I 
left  for  Sheerness,  and  then  without  giving  her  time  to  guard 
against  surprise,  I  asked  :  — 

"Do  you  believe  he  was  implicated  in  the  Roger  Went- 
worth  tragedy?" 

She  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  answered  defiantly: 
"I  do  not  believe  it.  I  know  it.  I  have  not  spoken  to  any 
one  else  about  it,  nor  shall  I  speak  of  it  again,  but  I  saw  him, 
and  of  course  I  hate  him."  She  turned  her  face  from  me, 
and  I  fancied  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"You  know  that  I  do  not  favor  Hamilton  as  your  suitor  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  still  with  averted  face. 

"And  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  you  were  wrong,  that 
Hamilton  had  no  part  in  the  robbing  and  killing  of  Roger 
Wentworth,  would  you  believe  me  ?" 

"No,  no  !"  she  exclaimed,  turning  to  me  quickly,  with  an 
angry  gleam  in  her  eyes.  "  I  tell  you  I  saw  him,  and  I  thank 
God  that  at  last  I  know  him  as  he  is  !  After  he  had  fought 
so  bravely  to  defend  me  at  the  Old  Swan,  my  heart  softened 
for  a  moment,  and  I  forgot  that  he  was  a  murderer.  He  is 
brave  and  strong,  but  —  why  should  you  try  to  excuse  him 
now,  when  you  spoke  so  plainly  at  Sundridge  ?  I  thought 


122          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

you  were  too  severe  then;  now  I  know  that  you  told  me 
only  a  part  of  the  terrible  truth.  My  softened  mood  lasted 
only  a  short  time  after  I  left  the  Old  Swan,  and  I  cared  not 
whether  he  lived  or  died." 

Hoping  to  put  her  right,  I  told  her  of  the  wager  at  the 
Leg  Tavern,  which  in  my  opinion  fully  explained  George's 
presence  on  the  St.  Albans  road,  but  she  declared  that  it 
was  a  flimsy  excuse,  and  said  she  did  not  want  to  talk 
further  on  the  subject. 

Knowing  that  I  could  not  convince  her  at  that  time,  I 
bore  away  from  the  topic  and  called  her  attention  to  the 
impropriety  of  taking  dinner  unescorted  at  a  public  house. 

"I  know  all  about  it,  cousin,"  she  returned,  "but  a  good 
character  is  of  no  value  in  Whitehall.  It  is  an  incum- 
brance.  As  to  my  conscience,  you  need  have  no  fear. 
When  I  first  came  to  court,  I  supposed  I  should  encounter 
dangers.  I  was  mistaken.  I  am  as  safe  here  as  I  should 
be  in  my  father's  house.  All  the  pitfalls  and  snares  are 
to  be  seen  by  any  one  who  wishes  to  see  them.  It  is  the 
sleeping  spider  that  catches  the  fly,  not  your  bold,  brazen 
hunter,  clumsily  alert." 

I  did  not  want  to  be  preaching  constantly  to  Frances, 
so  we  talked  on  other  subjects  till  we  reached  my  uncle's 
house,  where  I  remained,  singing,  dancing,  and  very  merry 
with  Frances,  Sarah,  and  Churchill,  till  we  heard  the  night 
watch  call,  "One  o'clock  and  raining  !" 

Churchill  and  I  slept  at  Sir  Richard's  and  returned  to 
Whitehall  the  next  morning. 

During  the  following  week  I  went  to  see  Betty  frequently 
under  the  pretence  of  wishing  to  see  Hamilton,  but  she 
told  me  (honestly,  I  believed)  that  he  had  left  the  Old 
Swan  and  that  she  did  not  know  where  he  was.  So  I  re- 
peated my  visits  every  day,  each  visit  growing  longer  and 
I  growing  fonder.  Betty,  too,  seemed  to  be  looking  for 


SWEET  BETTY  PICKERING  123 

my  visits  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  that  both  pleased  and 
grieved  me,  for  with  all  my  longing  for  the  girl,  I  never 
lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  if  I  were  the  right  sort  of  man, 
I  should  not  wish  to  gain  her  love  to  an  extent  that  would 
mean  sorrow  to  her. 

,  If  I  were  the  right  sort  of  man?  The  question  has  al- 
ways set  me  wondering.  The  man  who  never  doubts  that 
he  is  the  right  sort  of  man  may  be  put  down  as  all  bad, 
though  the  right  sort  of  man  is  not  necessarily  all  good. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON 

ONE  morning,  a  week  or  more  after  my  visit  to  my 
uncle's  house  with  Frances,  she  came  to  my  closet 
in  the  Wardrobe  greatly  excited,  and  told  me  that 
a  sheriff  had  come  to  take  her  to  one  of  the  London  courts 
of  law. 

"Here  is  the  paper  he  gave  me,"  she  said,  handing  me  a 
document  which  proved  to  be  a  subpoena.  "I  have  com- 
mitted no  crime,  and  I  can't  imagine  what  it  all  means." 

After  examining  the  subpoena,  I  explained:  "You  are 
wanted  merely  as  a  witness  before  a  jury  of  inquiry  engaged 
in  investigating  a  crime  of  some  sort.  It  may  be  Hamil- 
ton's fight  at  the  Old  Swan,  or  it  may  be  the  Roger  Went- 
worth  affair.  Perhaps  some  one  is  trying  to  fix  that  awful 
crime  on  Hamilton.  But  I  tell  you,  Frances,  he  is  inno- 
cent" 

I  had  not,  at  that  time,  explained  to  her  that  Hamilton 
and  Churchill  were  two  hundred  yards  behind  Crofts  and 
his  friends  when  the  robbery  was  committed,  having  felt 
that  it  was  just  as  well  not  to  make  Hamilton's  innocence 
too  clear. 

We  of  the  court  considered  ourselves  exempt  from  pro- 
cesses of  this  sort  while  in  the  palace.  Therefore  I  car- 
ried the  paper  to  the  king,  whom  I  found  at  cards  in  his 
closet. 

"What  is  it,  Clyde?"  asked  his  Majesty. 

124 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  125 

For  answer,  I  handed  him  the  subpoena,  and  when  he 
had  glanced  over  it,  he  returned  it  to  me,  saying :  — 

"  Please  tell  the  sheriff  for  me  that  Mistress  Jennings 
will  appear  before  the  court  of  inquiry  this  afternoon  at 
two  o'clock." 

"It  is  a  disagreeable  business  for  a  lady,  your  Majesty," 
I  remarked,  bowing.  "But  if  it  is  your  desire  - 

"Yes,  yes,  Clyde !  Come  with  me,"  he  interrupted, 
leading  me  out  of  the  room  to  a  corridor.  "You  see  it  is 
this  way.  We  of  the  palace  have  so  frequently  set  the 
law  at  defiance  of  late  that  the  citizens  are  beginning  to 
grumble.  In  this  instance  I  should  like  to  make  a  great 
show  of  compliance.  We'll  make  it  easy  for  your  cousin 
by  going  with  her.  And  Clyde,  if  you  will  say  to  the 
duchess  for  me  that  I  should  deem  it  a  favor  if  she  and 
one  or  more  of  her  ladies  will  accompany  us,  I  doubt  not 
she  will  be  glad  to  go." 

"But,  your  Majesty,  what  has  my  cousin  done  that  she 
should  be  dragged  before  the  courts  of  law?"  I  asked, 
pretending  ignorance  of  the  real  nature  of  the  summons 
and  hoping  to  ascertain  whether  the  king  knew  anything 
about  the  present  occasion. 

I  gained  the  information  I  wanted  when  he  replied  in- 
stantly: "Oh,  she  is  not  to  be  tried.  She  has  done  noth- 
ing. She  is  called  only  to  be  questioned  concerning  a 
crime  now  under  investigation."  Then  hedging  quickly, 
"That  is,  I  suppose  such  is  the  purpose  of  the  subpoena." 

The  king's  manner  and  his  evident  knowledge  of  what 
was  going  on  convinced  me  that  Hamilton  was  the  subject 
of  inquiry,  and  I  greatly  feared  an  effort  was  being  made 
to  charge  him  with  Roger  Wentworth's  death  or  to  arraign 
him  because  of  his  threats  against  the  king's  life. 

I  was  about  to  leave  the  king  when  he  stopped  me,  say- 
ing :  "Please  go  to  my  Lady  Castlemain's  lodging  over  Hoi- 


126          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

bein's  Gate  and  ask  her  to  go  with  us  down  to  London.  And 
Clyde,  have  my  barge  at  the  Bowling  Green  stairs  at  one 
o'clock  so  that  we  may  take  our  leisure  going  down  the  river 
and  still  reach  the  law  courts  on  time.  Our  punctuality 
will  flatter  the  city  folk." 

At  one  o'clock,  according  to  instructions,  I  went  to  the 
royal  barge  waiting  at  Bowling  Green  stairs,  where  pres- 
ently came  the  king,  the  duchess  with  one  of  her  ladies, 
Frances,  my  Lord  Clarendon,  and  my  Lady  Castlemain,  the 
last  named  bearing  in  her  arms  a  young  baby.  In  a  barge 
which  was  to  follow  us  were  several  gentlemen  of  the  court 
and  a  halfscore  of  the  king's  guardsmen.  Evidently  the 
occasion  was  to  be  in  the  nature  of  a  frolic ;  poor  Frances  to 
furnish  the  entertainment. 

On  thinking  it  all  over,  I  was  convinced  that  the  investi- 
gation, whatever  it  should  turn  out  to  be,  had  been  insti- 
gated by  the  king. 

When  we  entered  the  barge,  Frances  clung  to  my  hand  and 
sat  down  beside  me,  but  the  king,  who  was  sitting  with  the 
duchess  on  one  hand  and  Castlemain  on  the  other,  beckoned 
Frances  to  sit  beside  him.  She  went  to  him  reluctantly,  and 
he  moved  toward  the  duchess,  making  room  for  Frances 
between  himself  and  Castlemain.  But  that  fair  lady  ob- 
jected and  moved  up  to  the  king,  indicating  by  a  nod  that 
Frances  might  sit  on  the  spot  her  Ladyship  had  vacated. 

But  the  king  said,  "You  are  to  sit  by  me,  Mistress  Jen- 
nings." 

"  She'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  exclaimed  Castlemain,  with 
an  oath.  "  She'll  sit  on  the  other  side  of  me  or  in  the  bottom 
of  the  barge,  or  in  the  river,  I  care  not  which." 

"You  shall  make  room,  or  I'll  have  you  put  out  of  the 
barge,"  said  the  king,  displaying  a  flash  of  temper. 

Immediately  a  torrent  of  profanity  and  piercing  screams 
came  from  her  Ladyship. 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  127 

"Let  any  man  lay  hands  on  me,"  she  cried,  turning  to  the 
king,  "and  this  brat  of  yours  goes  into  the  water  !" 

"Sit  down,  in  God's  name,  sit  down  and  have  your  way," 
said  the  king,  waving  his  hand  to  the  man  on  the  wharf  to 
throw  the  warps  aboard. 

The  duchess  laughed  and  offered  to  give  her  place  to  Fran- 
ces, but  of  course  my  cousin  refused  and  came  back  to  me. 

When  we  reached  the  courtroom,  we  found  it  filled  with 
men,  women,  and  children,  most  of  them  belonging  to  the 
lower  walks  of  life  and  all  of  them  eager  to  see  the  king, 
whom  they  seemed  to  know  was  coming. 

As  we  entered,  the  High  Sheriff,  in  his  gown,  rose  and 
cried  :  "Oyez  !  Oyez  !  His  Majesty  is  now  in  presence  !  " 
Whereupon  the  audience  rose  and  remained  standing  till 
the  king  left. 

We  had  entered  by  the  public  door,  the  king  doubtless 
wishing  to  display  himself  as  fully  as  possible  to  the  people. 
As  we  passed  down  the  aisle  to  the  bar,  I  caught  the  eyes  of  a 
man  garbed  as  a  Quaker.  He  wore  a  thin  gray  beard,  and  his 
white  hair  hung  almost  to  his  shoulders.  His  bearing  and 
expression  were  truly  sanctimonious,  and  had  the  gleam  in 
his  eyes  been  in  keeping,  I  should  not  have  taken  a  second 
glance  at  him.  But  it  was  not,  so  as  I  came  close  to  him  I 
noticed  him  carefully  and  saw  that  he  was  observing  me. 
At  once  I  thought  of  Hamilton,  and  although  I  was  not  at 
all  sure  of  my  ground,  I  dropped  my  hat  near  him,  as  an 
excuse  for  stopping,  and,  while  bending  toward  him,  whis- 
pered :  — 

"Dark  spectacles  shade  the  eyes." 

If  the  man  was  not  Hamilton,  my  remark  would  mean 
nothing ;  if  he  was,  it  would  give  him  a  valuable  hint. 

When  the  king  and  the  duchess  were  seated,  the  judge 
spoke  from  the  bench,  calling  the  attention  of  the  good  people 


128          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

of  London  to  the  fact  that  his  gracious  Majesty  had  given 
to  the  court  information  which,  it  was  hoped,  would  lead 
to  the  arrest  of  the  man  who  had  committed  the  heinous 
crime  of  robbing  and  killing  Roger  Wentworth  on  the  king's 
highway.  The  judge  said  that  his  gracious  Majesty,  loving 
justice  as  perhaps  no  other  king  of  England  had  ever  loved 
it,  had  come  in  person  to  offer  as  a  witness  one  of  the  fairest 
ladies  of  the  court,  by  whose  testimony  it  was  expected  the 
guilty  man  might  be  brought  to  justice. 

During  this  speech,  which  was  much  longer  than  I  have 
given  it,  I  noticed  that  the  king  was  restless,  and  I  suspected 
that,  in  his  heart,  his  Majesty  was  cursing  the  judge  for  a 
fool. 

When  the  judge  sat  down,  the  Grand  Jury  was  summoned, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  wheels  of  justice  were  ready  to 
turn.  In  proceedings  of  this  nature,  there  is  no  prisoner  at 
bar;  therefore  no  one  is  in  court  save  the  crown  by  its 
counsel,  the  purpose  being  only  to  obtain  information  upon 
which  a  true  bill  or  indictment  may  be  found  against  some 
one  suspected  of  the  crime  under  investigation. 

After  all  was  ready,  the  sheriff  escorted  Frances  to  the 
witness  stand,  and  the  judge  asked  her  to  place  her  hand 
on  the  Bible.  She  did  so  and  made  oath  that  she  would 
true  answers  make  to  all  questions  that  should  be  put  to 
her  touching  her  knowledge  of  the  robbery  and  murder  of 
one  Roger  Wentworth. 

When  she  had  made  oath,  the  king's  counsel  said : 
"You  may  state  to  the  court  whether  you  were  acquainted 
with  one  Roger  Wentworth,  a  tanner  of  Sundridge,  during 
his  life."  To  which  question  Frances  answered  that  she 
had  known  Roger  since  her  childhood. 

The  king's  counsel  then  put  several  preliminary  ques- 
tions which  led  up  to  the  time  of  Roger's  murder,  after 
which  he  asked :  — - 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  129 

"You  may  state  to  the  court  whether  you  saw  the  faces 
of  any  of  the  highwaymen." 

"I  did,"  answered  Frances. 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  one  George  Hamilton?" 
asked  the  lawyer. 

"Yes,"  answered  Frances.  And  my  heart  almost  leaped 
out  of  my  mouth  in  fear  that  her  next  word  would  mean 
death  to  an  innocent  man. 

"You  may  state  whether  George  Hamilton  was  one  of 
the  highwaymen  who  attacked  and  killed  Roger  Went- 
worth." 

Frances  paused  for  perhaps  ten  seconds,  but  the  time 
seemed  an  hour  to  me,  and  I  remember  wondering  how  the 
Quaker  felt. 

"No,"  she  answered,  in  a  voice  clear  as  a  bell  and  with- 
out a  flutter  of  hesitancy. 

It  could  easily  be  seen  that  her  answer  surprised  the 
court  and  the  king's  counsel,  and  as  the  king  glanced  up 
to  Crofts,  who  was  standing  by  his  side,  I  noticed  a  queer 
expression  which  seemed  to  say  that  the  evidence  was  not 
what  they  had  expected. 

The  king's  counsel  held  a  brief  whispered  consultation 
with  the  judge,  who  spoke  privately  to  the  king,  and  sud- 
denly Frances  was  told  that  the  proceedings  were  over. 
Evidently  the  king  had  refused  to  have  her  questioned 
further,  fearing,  no  doubt,  that  she  might  testify  to  having 
recognized  the  real  culprits. 

After  the  court  had  risen,  we  were  perhaps  ten  minutes 
making  our  way  from  the  courtroom,  and  when  we  came 
to  the  coaches  which  were  to  take  us  to  our  barge,  I  saw 
the  Quaker  standing  near  by.  He  wore  colored  spectacles. 
He  was  Hamilton.  As  I  passed  the  Quaker,  I  said  to 
Frances  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear :  — 

"I  shall  go  to  see  Betty  each  Sabbath  evening  hereafter," 


i3o          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

Frances  looked  up  in  surprise  at  my  apparently  sense- 
less remark,  but  I  did  not  explain  its  significance,  and  she 
remained  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  Hamilton  had  just 
heard  her  make  what  she  supposed  to  be  a  false  oath  for 
his  sake.  Soon  after  we  reached  the  palace,  my  cousin 
and  I  walked  out  to  the  park,  and  after  a  long  meditative 
silence,  she  asked :  — 

"Was  I  guilty  of  a  great  sin  in  making  a  false  oath  on 
the  book?" 

"No,"  I  answered.  "Because  you  swore  to  the  truth, 
not  only  in  the  spirit,  but  in  the  letter.  Hamilton  was  not 
one  of  the  highwaymen  who  attacked  and  killed  Roger 
Wentworth." 

"Ah,  but  I  saw  him  and  recognized  him,"  she  answered. 

"Why,  then,  did  you  make  oath  that  you  did  not?"  I 
asked. 

"I  have  been  asking  myself  the  same  question  over  and 
over,"  she  returned.  Then  after  a  long  pause.  "I  de- 
liberately swore  falsely.  I  did  recognize  him  by  the  light 
of  the  lanthorn.  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him,  but  having 
known  him  as  I  did  at  one  time,  I  almost  wish  that  I  could 
have  remained  in  ignorance  of  his  guilt.  Would  that  the 
lanthorn  had  been  dark  so  that  I  could  not  have  seen  him." 

"I  do  not  deny  that  you  saw  him,  Frances,  but  I  do 
deny  that  you  saw  him  attack  Roger  Wentworth.  Hamil- 
ton was  two  hundred  yards  down  the  road  when  Roger  was 
killed.  If  not,  he  has  lied  to  me,  and,  with  all  his  faults, 
I  have  always  found  him  truthful." 

After  a  moment  she  answered  musingly:  "I  believe 
you  are  right.  Noah  had  whipped  up  the  horses,  and  we 
must  have  covered  at  least  a  hundred  yards  or  more  before 
I  saw  Master  Hamilton's  face.  I  fear  I  have  committed 
a  great  sin  against  him,  and  this  day  came  near  committing 
a  greater.  I  was  on  the  point  of  answering  'yes'  to  the 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  131 

lawyer's  question,  when  some  motive  prompted  me  to  say 
'no/  and  to  make  false  oath.  I  wish  I  were  dead.  I  have 
wronged  him  cruelly,  and  you  are  to  blame." 

The  last  sentence  was  purely  feminine  logic,  which  is 
always  interesting  but  usually  inaccurate. 

She  began  to  weep,  and  I  took  her  hand  to  soothe  her, 
as  I  asked  gently:  "Tell  me,  Frances.  Tell  me  all  your 
trouble.  Speak  it  out.  Let  me  be  your  other  self.  Per- 
haps I  can  help  you." 

After  a  long  pause  she  began  her  pathetic  story:  "I 
cannot  blind  myself  to  the  truth.  It  is  because  I  cannot 
stop  thinking  of  him.  The  creatures  that  infest  this  court 
are  but  foils  to  show  me  that  he  is  a  man,  even  though  he 
be  a  bad  one,  while  they  are  mere  imitations.  I  have  often 
heard  you  say  bitingly  that  women  do  not  hate  wickedness 
in  men  as  they  should  - 

"I  fear  it  is  true,"  I  interrupted  dolefully. 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  she  continued.  "And  one  might  go 
further  and  say  that  no  woman  ever  loved  a  man  only  be- 
cause he  was  good.  Too  often  goodness  is  but  the  lack  of 
courage  to  do  wrong  or  the  absence  of  temptation.  If  a 
man  has  no  qualities  save  goodness  to  recommend  him,  I 
fear  he  might  go  his  whole  life  through  not  knowing  a  wom- 
an's real  love.  We  are  apt  to  turn  from  the  nauseating 
innocuousness  of  the  truly  good  and  to  thank  God  for  a 
modicum  of  interesting  sin." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  this  philosophy  from  you,  cousin,  for 
it  smacks  of  bitterness,  and  I  regret  to  learn  that  you  have 
not  thrown  off  your  love  for  Hamilton,  though  I  have  long 
suspected  the  truth." 

"Yes,  yes,  Ned,  the  truth,  the  truth  !  I,  too,  am  sorry. 
But  it  can't  be  helped,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it," 
she  said,  clasping  my  arm.  "I  —  I  am  almost  mad  about 
him  !  The  king  and  the  courtiers  are  harmless.  It  may  be 


I32         THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

that  my  love  exalts  Master  Hamilton  and  debases  others  by 
comparison,  but  it  is  as  I  say  with  me,  and  I  fear  it  will 
ever  be.  He  may  be  bad,  but  he  is  strong,  brave,  and 
honest.  He  is  a  man  —  all  man  —  and  I  tell  you,  Baron 
Ned,  a  woman  doesn't  look  much  further  when  she  goes  to 
give  her  love." 

My  eyes  were  opening  rapidly  to  qualities  in  my  cousin 
that  I  had  never  suspected,  so  after  a  moment  I  asked  in 
alarm :  — 

"But  surely  you  would  not  marry  Hamilton  ?  " 

"No,  I  cannot  marry  him  because  of  father,"  she  answered, 
shaking  her  head  dolefully.  "I  must  marry  a  rich  man. 
More  than  a  month  ago  the  Duke  of  Tyrconnel  asked  me 
to  be  his  wife,  as  you  know.  He  seems  to  know  that  he 
must  buy  me  if  he  would  have  me,  so  he  tells  me  that  he 
has  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and  offers  to  settle  ten 
thousand  a  year  on  me  if  I  will  marry  him.  I  asked  for  a 
fortnight  in  which  to  consider  his  offer,  and  when  the  time 
was  up  I  begged  for  another,  which  he  granted,  kindly  saying 
that  he  did  not  want  me  to  answer  till  I  was  sure  of  myself, 
even  though  the  delay  cost  him  a  year's  happiness.  The 
time  is  almost  up,  and  I  must  ask  another  extension ;  but 
I  shall  eventually  take  him,  and  then  God  pity  me,  for  I 
know  I  shall  die." 

"No,  no,  Frances,"  I  returned,  trying  to  conceal  my  de- 
light. "You  will  be  happy  with  Dick  Talbot  if  you  will 
thrust  the  other  man  out  of  your  heart." 

"Thrust  the  other  man  out  of  my  heart !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  It  was  never  done  by  a  woman.  She  may  be  cured,  I 
suppose,  by  time  and  conditions,  but  she  can't  cure  herself. 
A  woman's  heart  is  like  a  telescope.  It  magnifies  the  man  of 
her  choice,  but  reverses  and  becomes  a  diminishing  glass  for 
all  others.  But  I  shall  accept  Tyrconnel  just  as  soon  as  I 
grow  used  to  the  thought  of  living  with  him.  Soon  you 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  133 

will  have  accomplished  your  purpose  in  bringing  me  to 
court." 

"My  purpose?"  I  asked  in  surprise.  "Was  it  not  also 
your  purpose?" 

"I  suppose  it  was,  but  I  hate  myself  for  having  conceived 
it.  I'm  learning  to  hate  every  one,  the  king  more  than  any 
man,  unless  I  except  that  little  wretch,  Jermyn,  the  court 
lady-killer.  What  a  despicable  thing  your  lady-killer  is ! 
Doubtless  God  created  him  to  show  by  comparison  the  great 
worth  of  worms,  snakes,  and  other  reptiles." 

"What  has  Little  Jermyn  been  doing?"  I  asked,  amused 
at  her  vindictiveness. 

"He  has  crushed  so  many  hearts  that  he  deems  himself 
irresistible,  and  of  late  has  been  annoying  me.  If  by  any 
chance  he  finds  me  alone,  he  importunes  me  to  make  a  tryst 
with  him  and  save  him  from  death  because  of  a  broken 
heart.  I  usually  answer  by  walking  away  from  him  and  try 
to  show  him  that  he  is  beneath  even  my  contempt,  but  his 
vanity  is  so  great  that  he  imagines  my  manner  to  be  the 
outgrowth  of  pique  or  a  desire  to  lead  him  on.  Therefore 
when  others  are  present,  he  gazes  on  me  with  down-bent 
head  and  eyes  upturned  from  beneath  his  bulging  forehead, 
as  though  he  would  put  a  spell  upon  me." 

"Well,  let  him  gaze.     It  can't  harm  you,"  I  suggested. 

"No,  but  it  makes  me  ill,"  she  answered.  "Three  nights 
ago  I  was  standing  with  the  king  and  several  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  waiting  for  the  country  dance  to  begin,  for  which 
the  king  was  to  call  the  changes.  This  Little  Jermyn  came 
up  to  the  group,  and,  without  speaking  a  word  to  any  one, 
fixed  his  upturned  eyes  on  me." 

"That  was  a  sin,"  I  said,  laughing,  but  she  ignored  my 
interruption. 

"For  a  time  I  paid  no  heed,  but  soon  his  gaze  so  nauseated 
me  that  I  could  not  restrain  my  anger,  and  said,  loud  enough 


134          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

for  him  and  the  others  to  hear,  'What  ails  the  little  man,  that 
he  should  stand  there  staring  at  me  like  a  sick  calf  trying 
to  cast  a  spell  upon  the  moon?'  The  king  laughed  and 
Jermyn  bowed,  as  he  replied,  'The  moon  pretends  to  disdain 
veal,  doubtless  in  the  hope  of  having  royal  beef.'  The  king 
laughed  and  told  Jermyn  to  gaze  elsewhere,  if  the  moon  re- 
fused to  be  spellbound,  and  the  little  creature  left  us  to 
carry  out  the  king's  suggestion.  But  I  shall  marry  Tyr- 
connel  and  make  an  end  of  it  all  just  as  soon  as  possible." 

We  returned  to  the  palace,  and  I  did  not  see  my  cousin 
during  the  next  week.  Meantime  the  king  was  growing 
more  importunate,  and  one  day  affairs  reached  a  terrifying 
climax  when  he  intimated  to  Frances  that  if  she  would 
promise  to  become  his  wife,  he  would  try  to  divorce  the 
queen.  It  has  been  said,  doubtless  with  truth,  that  the 
same  offer  was  made  to  Mistress  Stuart,  now  the  Duchess 
of  Richmond. 

When  Frances  refused  his  Majesty's  offer,  which,  prob- 
ably, was  made  only  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  her  to 
trust  him,  he  asked  with  ill-concealed  anger :  — 

"Do  you  refuse  my  offer  because  you  are  still  thinking 
of  Hamilton?" 

"I  would  refuse  it,  your  Majesty,  were  there  no  other 
man  in  the  world,"  answered  Frances,  bowing  and  asking 
leave  to  withdraw. 

When  Frances  told  me  of  this  extraordinary  offer,  I 
was  convinced  that  the  king  had  no  intention  of  fulfilling 
it,  but  it  served  to  open  my  eyes  to  the  extent  of  his  pas- 
sion, and  to  assure  me  that  he  would  use  any  means  in  his 
power,  however  desperate,  to  gain  his  end.  ^Frances  was 
in  danger. 

I  also  knew  that  if  the  king  held  Hamilton  responsible 
for  Frances's  obduracy,  means  would  be  found  of  putting 
him  out  of  the  way,  if  his  Majesty  could  but  get  hands  on 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  135 

him.  With  this  belief  strong  upon  me,  I  was  not  sur- 
prised when  Frances  came  to  me  in  great  tribulation 
within  a  day  or  two,  and  said  :  — 

"Cousin  Ned,  it  is  reported  that  Master  Hamilton  is 
still  in  London  and  that  he  has  avowed  his  intention  to 
kill  the  king.  The  surgeon  who  dressed  his  wounds  is 
said  to  be  responsible  for  the  accusation.  If  he  is  found, 
he  certainly  will  die,  for  the  proof  will  be  at  hand,  false 
or  true.  The  king  told  me  as  much,  and  offered  to  pardon 
Master  Hamilton  if  I  would  ask  it  in  the  proper  spirit.  But 
I  refused,  saying  that  I  did  not  care  a  farthing  what  he  did 
respecting  Hamilton.  You  must  find  him,  Baron  Ned  ! 
Find  him  at  once  and  give  him  warning  !" 

"I  feel  sure  that  Betty  knows  where  he  is,"  I  answered. 
"I'll  go  to  her  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  she  may  know,  and  I  would  save  him  if  I  could," 
answered  Frances,  trying  hard  to  hold  back  the  tears. 
"I  wronged  him  cruelly,  and  now  I  fear  it  is  too  late  to 
make  amends.  I  can  only  moan  and  weep,  and  long  to 
ask  him  to  forgive  me  and  to  tell  him  that  I  am  not  the 
creature  he  thinks  I  am.  I  would  speak  plainly  to  him 
for  once  of  what  I  am  and  of  what  I  feel  for  him,  and  then 
I  am  ready  to  part  from  him  forever  and  to  marry  Tyr- 
connel  or  any  one  else  who  will  give  me  wealth." 

The  following  day  Frances  asked  and  received  permis- 
sion from  the  duchess  to  spend  the  day  with  Sir  Richard. 
I  offered  to  accompany  her,  but  she  refused  so  emphatically 
that  I  suspected  there  was  a  purpose  in  her  mind  over  and 
above  a  mere  visit  to  her  father's  house. 

I  remember  well  the  day.  It  was  near  the  hour  of  ten 
when  I  saw  her  leave  the  palace  by  the  garden  door.  She 
wore  a  long  dark  cloak,  a  small  bonnet,  and  a  full  vizard 
which  covered  her  entire  face.  I  had  never  known  her  to 
wear  so  large  a  vizard,  as  she  detested  even  small  ones, 


136          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

and  wore  them  only  out  of  respect  for  the  prevailing  fashion. 
She  hastened  toward  the  King  Street  Gate,  and  I,  following 
at  a  short  distance,  saw  her  take  boat  at  the  Charing  Cross 
stairs. 

After  thinking  over  the  situation,  I  determined  to  go  to 
my  uncle's  house.  As  I  had  suspected,  Frances  was  not 
there.  After  greeting  Sir  Richard  and  Sarah,  I  asked 
them,  as  though  speaking  by  the  way,  when  they  had  seen 
Frances. 

"She  hasn't  been  home  for  a  week  or  more,"  answered 
Sir  Richard. 

"I  wish  she  would  make  haste  in  choosing  a  husband, 
or  in  wheedling  one  to  choose  her,"  remarked  Sarah. 
"I'll  beat  her  in  the  race  if  she  doesn't.  If  I  should,  I 
might  furnish  a  new  saw  to  the  world :  'The  suitor  is  not 
always  to  the  beautiful,  nor  the  husband  to  the  soft  of 
tongue.'  I  have  a  gallant." 

"So  I  have  suspected  of  late,"  I  answered. 

"Yes,  you're  right  —  John  Churchill,"  answered  Sarah. 

"He  is  a  fine  man,"  I  returned. 

"Yes,"  replied  Sarah,  apparently  very  serious,  though 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  her  eye.  "But  I'm  not  sure  of  him 
yet."  Then  with  a  sigh:  "I  would  that  I  were.  If  he 
knows  what  is  for  his  own  good,  he'll  speak  soon,  as  I  in- 
tend to  make  a  duke  of  him  before  he  dies,  and  the  sooner 
we  get  at  it  the  better.  A  sensible  conscience,  prepense 
to  its  own  interest,  a  good  courtier,  and  a  shrewd  wife 
have  made  many  a  duke  of  far  poorer  material  than  my 
John." 

I  laughed,  and  Sir  Richard  smiled,  but  we  each  seemed 
to  feel  that  Sarah's  words  were  prophetic,  and  the  future 
bore  us  out,  as  all  the  world  knows. 

After  waiting  in  my  uncle's  parlor  an  hour  or  more,  hop- 
ing that  Frances  would  arrive,  I  took  my  leave  and  walked 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  137 

down  to  the  Old  Swan,  where  I  found  her.  What  hap- 
pened there  I  learned  afterward  from  her  and  from  others  — 
that  is,  what  I  did  not  see  for  myself. 

After  leaving  Whitehall,  Frances  had  made  her  way  di- 
rectly to  the  Old  Swan,  where  she  soon  found  Betty.  At 
first  the  girl  did  not  seem  inclined  to  be  at  all  cordial,  but 
when  Frances  told  her  that  she  was  in  trouble  and  wanted 
help,  Betty's  kind  heart  responded  at  once.  "Trouble" 
was  the  password  to  Betty's  good  graces. 
,  "Let  us  go  to  a  room  where  we  may  be  by  ourselves," 
suggested  Frances.  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  freely  where  we 
shall  not  be  overheard." 

Betty  led  the  way  to  her  own  little  parlor  on  the  second 
floor  and  placed  a  chair  for  her  guest  near  a  window  opening 
on  the  court.  Frances  sat  down  and  asked  Betty,  who  evi- 
dently intended  to  remain  standing,  to  bring  a  chair  and  sit 
beside  her. 

"I  would  not  think  of  sitting  in  your  Grace's  presence," 
answered  Betty,  courtesying  respectfully. 

"Sit  down,  Betty,  please,  and  let  us  be  friends,"  said 
Frances,  coaxingly.  "I  am  not  a  duchess.  I  am  only  a  girl 
like  yourself.  My  name  is  Mistress  Jennings  —  Frances. 
Nelly  Gwynn  was  jesting  when  she  spoke  of  me  as  a  duch- 
ess, and  only  wanted  to  tease  you  when  she  objected  to  the 
table  linen.  She  is  good  and  kind  —  no  one  can  be  more 
so." 

"Yes,"  returned  Betty.  "She  came  back  and  said  that 
the  linen  was  beautiful  and  offered  me  money  for  myself, 
but  I  refused.  You  see  I  am  not  —  well,  I  am  not  a  servant. 
But  afterward  she  gave  me  a  hundred  jacobusses  for  the 
poor,  and  I  thanked  her.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  was  angry 
the  day  of  the  fight,  but  you  know  the  great  persons  who 
come  here  from  Whitehall  are  very  irritating,  and  treat  us 
all  with  contempt." 


138          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"I  am  not  a  great  lady,  Betty,  though  I  live  at  court.  I 
am  poor  and  very  far  from  happy.  I  am  not  so  good  as 
you,  Betty,  I'm  sure,  though  I  do  the  best  I  can  not  to  be 
bad." 

"Oh,  you  are  too  beautiful  not  to  be  good,"  returned 
Betty,  warming  up  to  my  cousin. 

"Whether  I  am  beautiful  or  not  I  care  little,  for  I  am  in 
great  trouble  and  have  come  to  you  for  help,"  said  Frances. 
"My  cousin,  Baron  Clyde,  who  is  as  dear  to  me  as  a  brother, 
is  full  of  your  praises,  and  only  the  other  day  said  that  there 
was  no  woman  or  girl  in  England  purer  or  better  than  you, 
and  that  he  knew  none  in  the  world  whom  he  deemed  more 
beautiful." 

The  red  came  to  Betty's  cheeks,  and  she  answered, 
smiling  and  dimpling :  "Ah,  did  he  say  that  of  me?  I 
deem  him  my  very  good  friend  indeed.  Is  he  really  your 
cousin  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  is  more  a  brother  than  a  cousin,"  returned 
Frances. 

Immediately  Betty  softened  and,  drawing  a  chair  close  to 
Frances's  side,  sat  down.  After  a  long  pause,  she  mur- 
mured :  "Then  if  I  may,  I,  too,  would  be  your  friend." 

"I  knew  you  would,"  answered  Frances.  "Now  give 
me  your  hand,  so  that  we  may  feel  as  well  as  see  and 
hear  each  other.  Ah,  Betty,  how  soft  and  warm  your 
hand  is.  I  don't  wonder  that  my  cousin  praises  you. 
You  have  won  me  already,  and  I  hope  we  may  always  be 
good  friends." 

"I  shall  be  glad,"  murmured  Betty,  pressing  Frances's 
hand,  assuringly.  "You  say  you  are  in  trouble.  In  what 
way  may  I  help  you  ?  " 

Frances  began,  "You  know  Master  Hamilton  —  Master 
George  Hamilton?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Betty. 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  139 

"And  you  would  be  glad  to  help  me  save  him  from  great 
peril?"  asked  Frances. 

"  Yes,  Mistress  Jennings.  He,  too,  is  my  friend  acd  a 
good  man." 

"Yes,  yes,  tell  me,  Betty.  Good,  say  you?  I  had  not 
supposed  him  good,  but  — " 

"If  you  supposed  otherwise,  you  were  wrong,"  returned 
Betty,  straightening  up  in  her  chair,  ready  to  do  battle  for 
her  friend. 

"Yes,  yes,  tell  me,  please,  Betty,  why  you  deem  him  good," 
pleaded  Frances,  eager  to  be  convinced.  "What  has  he 
done  or  left  undone  ?  " 

"He  has  left  undone  all  which  he  should  not  have  done  in 
so  far  as  I  know,"  said  Betty,  "and  has  done  a  great  deal  of 
good.  Recently  when  a  plague  was  raging  along  the  wall 
from  Aldgate  to  Bishopgate,  where  a  great  many  poor  people 
live,  you  know,  Master  Hamilton  went  down  among  them  at 
peril  of  his  life." 

"Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Frances,  eagerly. 

"He  nursed  them  and  carried  food  and  water  to  them. 
You  know  one  stricken  with  the  plague  is  ready  to  die  of 
thirst.  He  took  care  of  the  children,  helped  to  bury  the 
dead,  which,  you  know,  in  case  of  very  poor  people,  is  done 
after  night,  consoled  the  bereaved,  and  —  oh,  Mistress  Jen- 
nings, it  was  an  awful  sight!"  said  Betty,  tears  coming 
to  her  eyes. 

"And  Master  Hamilton  helped  them?"  asked  Frances, 
hoping  to  keep  the  glorious  narrative  going. 

"Yes,  he  did  the  work  of  half  a  score  of  men,"  said  Betty. 
"In  the  disguise  of  a  Quaker,  he  solicited  money  with  which 
to  buy  medicine  and  to  employ  physicians,  and  did  every- 
thing in  his  power  to  comfort  the  poor  sufferers.  Doctor 
Lilly,  the  astrologer,  helped  us.  People  say  he  is  a  cheat, 
but  I  wish  we  had  more  of  his  kind  among  us." 


I4o          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"And  you  helped  him  ?"  asked  Frances. 

"Yes,  a  little,"  said  Betty,  modestly.  "But  my  father 
helped  him  a  great  deal  with  money  and  food." 

"Master  Hamilton  is  in  danger  of  his  life,"  said  Frances, 
"and  I  would  save  him.  Will  you  help  me  to  find  him  ? " 

After  a  long  pause,  Betty  asked:  "But  how  shall  I 
know  that  you  mean  fair  by  him  ?  I'll  see  him  if  I  can, 
and  when  you  return,  I'll  tell  you  where  to  find  him  if  he 
consents." 

"So  you  do  know  where  he  is  ?"  asked  Frances,  eagerly. 

Betty  did  not  reply,  so  Frances  continued:  "I  do  mean 
him  fair,  Betty.  I  am  risking  everything  —  my  good  name, 
perhaps  even  life  itself,  in  seeking  him.  I  expected  to  have 
to  prove  my  good  intent,  so  I  brought  with  me  this  letter 
which  no  one  save  myself  has  ever  seen,  nor  any  one  other 
than  you  shall  ever  see.  Read  it,  Betty.  It  is  one  Master 
Hamilton  sent  to  me  from  France." 

Betty  hesitated,  but  as  Frances  insisted,  she  read  the 
letter  and  returned  it,  saying :  — 

"You  are  his  sweetheart ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Betty,  in  all  that  is  best  and  most  terrible  hi 
the  meaning  of  the  word." 

Betty  sat  thinking  for  a  moment,  then  went  to  the  win- 
dow, saying,  "If  you  will  look  out  the  window  across  the 
courtyard,  you  will  see  a  flight  of  stone  steps  leading  to  the 
cellar." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  returned  Frances. 

"If  you  go  down  the  steps,  you  will  find  a  door  to  which  I 
shall  give  you  the  key.  Enter  and  you  will  be  in  an  empty 
room,  the  walls  of  which  are  hung  with  worn  tapestries 
taken  from  the  inn.  On  one  side  of  the  room  you  will  see  a 
tapestried  panel  bearing  the  image  of  St.  George  and  the 
dragon.  Behind  the  panel  is  a  concealed  door,  seemingly  a 
part  of  the  wall,  but  if  you  will  allow  the  tapestry  to  hang 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  141 

and  will  press  the  eye  of  the  dragon,  the  door  will  open  and 
you  may  find  —  your  St.  George." 

Frances  caught  Betty  in  her  arms,  crying,  "Let  me  go  to 
him  at  once,  at  once  !" 

Betty  and  Frances  went  downstairs,  and  after  waiting  a 
minute  or  two,  Betty  said,  "Now  there  is  no  one  in  the  court- 
yard, and  you  may  cross  unseen." 

Frances  hastened  across  the  courtyard  and  down  the 
cellar  steps.  On  reaching  the  outer  door  of  which  Betty  had 
spoken,  she  halted  in  fear.  But  she  dared  not  retreat,  so 
inserting  the  key,  she  entered. 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  room  the  images  of  faded  knights, 
angels,  saints,  and  dragons  seemed  to  stand  like  a  small 
army  of  ghosts  ready  to  deny  her  passage.  But  soon  she 
discovered  the  figure  of  St.  George,  pressed  the  eye  of  the 
dragon,  lifted  the  tapestry,  and  entered  the  room  of  a  print- 
ing shop. 

While  Frances  had  been  standing  in  hesitation  before  the 
figure  of  the  saint,  she  had  heard  with  some  alarm  a  rumbling 
noise  in  the  room  she  was  about  to  enter.  The  rumbling  is 
destined,  in  my  opinion,  to  go  down  the  line  of  the  ages,  an 
instrument  of  untold  good  to  mankind,  for  it  was  the  rum- 
bling of  a  printing-press. 

Standing  at  the  press,  lifting  and  lowering  it  by  means  of 
a  foot  lever,  and  feeding  it  with  broad  strips  of  paper,  stood 
a  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves.  At  an  inclined  desk,  a  type-case, 
stood  another  man  setting  type,  close  beside  the  press.  He, 
also,  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  was  much  older  and  stouter 
than  the  man  at  the  press. 

The  rumbling  had  drowned  the  slight  noise  occasioned  by 
the  opening  of  the  door,  so  that  Frances  stood  waiting  a  full 
minute  before  she  was  observed.  The  stout  man  at  the 
type-case  was  the  first  to  see  her,  and  when  he  turned,  she 
asked,  trembling :  — 


I42          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"  I  am  seeking  Master  Hamilton.     Shall  I  find  him  here  ?  " 

The  man  at  the  press  then  turned  quickly  to  Frances. 
His  face  was  smooth  shaven,  but  was  almost  covered  with 
printers'  ink,  giving  him  the  appearance  of  a  blackamoor. 
The  stout  man  at  the  type-case,  failing  to  respond,  and  the 
other  being  apparently  too  surprised  to  speak,  Frances  went 
to  the  blackamoor  and,  standing  beside  the  press,  was  about 
to  repeat  her  inquiry. 

The  type-case,  press,  and  a  small  table,  on  which  lay  a 
bundle  of  white  paper,  all  stood  huddled  together  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  occupying  a  space  of  perhaps  eight  feet 
square. 

Before  Frances  had  gained  courage  to  speak,  a  small  bell 
rang.  Immediately  the  stout  man  sprang  from  the  type- 
case,  ran  in  great  haste  to  a  chest  near  the  wall,  opened  the 
lid  and  drew  forth  a  long  red  cloak  and  a  fez-shaped  cap  of 
the  same  color,  each  embroidered  with  signs  of  the  zodiac 
in  tarnished  gold.  He  Hurriedly  put  on  the  gown  and  cap, 
and  again  diving  into  the  chest,  drew  forth  a  long  black 
coat,  a  broad  Quaker  hat,  a  false  beard,  and  a  white  wig. 
These  he  tossed  to  the  blackamoor,  then  ran  across  the  room, 
opened  a  concealed  panel  in  the  wall,  drew  down  a  lever, 
closed  the  panel,  sprang  to  a  large  desk  near  by,  sat  down 
and  began  to  write  diligently. 

These  strange,  rapid  actions  on  the  part  of  the  stout  man 
were  so  surprising  and  alarming  to  Frances  that  for  the  mo- 
ment she  did  not  notice  that  the  section  of  the  floor  on  which 
she,  the  blackamoor,  and  all  the  printing  apparatus  were 
standing  was  sinking.  Almost  before  she  was  aware  of 
the  startling  movement  of  the  floor,  which,  after  it  had  be- 
gun to  move,  seemed  to  fall  rather  than  sink,  it  stopped 
suddenly,  perhaps  eight  feet  below.  The  floor  above 
closed  silently  over  her  head,  and  she  found  herself  alone 
with  the  inky  man  in  almost  total  darkness.  She  was  too 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  143 

badly  frightened  to  scream,  or  even  to  speak,  and  stood  in 
silence,  awaiting  with  benumbed  senses  whatever  calamity 
might  befall  her. 

After  a  minute  or  two  the  blackamoor  spoke  in  whispers : 
"Mistress  Jennings  need  have  no  fear.  The  officers  of  her 
friend,  the  king,[have  just  come  to  the  Old  Swan  seeking  me. 
The  bell  you  heard  was  the  alarm,  sounded  by  Betty  Pick- 
ering. Unless  she  is  able  to  keep  them  away  from  here, 
you  may  perhaps  hear  the  sheriffs  presently  in  the  room  above 
with  Doctor  Lilly,  the  man  you  saw  at  the  type-case.  If 
they  come,  I  trust  you  will  remain  silent,  unless  you  are 
here  for  the  purpose  of  betraying  me." 

Frances  recognized  Hamilton's  voice,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing his  cruel  suspicion,  her  fear  gave  place  to  joy,  for  she 
knew  that  she  could  soon  drive  all  doubt  from  his  heart. 
His  words  did  not  even  hurt  her,  for  she  bore  in  mind  the 
great  injustice  she  had  done  him,  and  remembered  the  good 
reason  he  had  to  believe  that  she  was  not  his  friend.  She 
tried  to  speak  calmly  and  within^  the  bounds  of  propriety, 
but  the  cold  words  she  would  have  spoken  refused  to  leave 
ler  lips,  and  after  a  futile  effort  to  restrain  herself,  that  which 
was  in  her  heart  came  forth,  because  she  could  not  keep  it 
back. 

"Ah,  Master  Hamilton,  you  do  not  understand.  I  came 
to  tell  you  that  I  am  not  what  you  deem  me ;  that  if  you 
had  good  reason  to  believe  me  pure  when  we  met  at  Sun- 
dridge,  you  have  the  same  reason  now.  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  when  I  refused  to  recognize  you  on  that  awful  day  in  the 
Old  Swan,  when  you  fought  so  bravely  in  my  behalf,  I 
thought  you  were  guilty  of  Roger  Wentworth's  death." 

"No,  no,  I  am  not  that  bad,"  interrupted  Hamilton. 

"At  Sundridge  you  made  me  believe  that  you  loved  me," 
continued  Frances,  unmindful  of  the  interruption.  "And 
now  since  you  would  not  come  to  me,  nor  send  me  word  in 


144          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

all  this  long  weary  time,  I  could  not  restrain  myself,  but,  all 
unmaidenly,  have  come  to  you  because  I  can  in  no  way  put 
my  love  from  my  heart,  pray  and  Iry  as  I  will." 

She  reached  forth  her  hand  in  the  dark  and  touched  him. 
She  had  not  underestimated  her  strength  when  she  believed 
that  by  a  word  she  could  drive  doubt  from  his  heart  and 
bring  him  to  her  feet,  for  in  a  breath  she  who  had  scorned 
the  love  of  a  king,  and  had  laughed  at  the  greatest  nobles  in 
England,  was  in  the  arms  of  a  man  on  whose  life  the  king 
had  set  a  price.  Her  head  fell  back  into  the  bend  of  his 
elbow,  her  willing  lips  gave  him  their  sweetness,  her  arm 
was  clasped  about  his  neck,  and  she  had  forgotten  all  save 
love  and  the  man  she  loved. 

George  said  nothing,  so  after  a  little  time,  Frances  con- 
tinued :  "Tell  me  that  you  know  I  am  not  the  creature  evil- 
minded  persons  pretend  to  believe  I  am.  I  might  have  been 
a  duchess,  with  grand  estates,  by  gift  from  the  king,  but  I 
am  not,  nor  ever  shall  be.  I  loathe  him,  and  so  great  is  my 
sense  of  contamination  that  when  he  touches  my  hand  in 
dancing,  I  almost  feel  that  it  is  a  thing  of  evil." 

"And  you,  whom  I  hear  the  king  would  marry,  who,  I  am 
told,  might  pick  and  choose  a  husband  from  among  the 
richest  and  noblest  of  the  land,  for  whom  it  is  said  the  Duke 
of  Tyrconnel  is  longing,  come  here  to  this  hole  and  throw 
yourself  away  on  me,  an  outcast ;  one  who  makes  his  daily 
bread  by  labor  at  a  printing-press,  one  on  whose  life  the  king 
has  set  a  price?  You  come  here  to  give  yourself  to  me !" 
cried  George,  almost  stunned  by  surprise  and  joy. 

He  held  her  close  to  him  and  kissed  her  lips,  not  to  his 
content,  for  that  would  have  been  impossible,  but  till  he 
checked  himself  to  hear  her  answer.  But  she  did  not  speak, 
and  after  a  little  time  he  led  her,  groping  his  way  in  the  dark, 
to  a  box  standing  against  the  wall,  where  they  sat  down. 
She  clasped  his  hand,  but  did  not  answer  his  question. 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  145 

Supposing  that  her  silence  was  without  cause,  and  wishing 
an  answer  in  words,  George  continued :  — 

"It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  you,  who  went  to  court  to 
make  your  fortune,  should  refuse  it  when  it  is  in  your  grasp 
and  should  give  yourself  to  me." 

"No,  no,"  she  answered,  withdrawing  her  hand  from  his 
clasp  and  covering  her  face.  "I  do  not,  I  may  not  give 
myself  to  you.  But  I  do  give  you  love,  such  as  I  believe 
no  woman  ever  before  gave  to  a  man.  I  am  going  to  marry 
the  Duke  of  Tyrconnel.  But  when  I  learned  how  grievously 
I  had  wronged  you,  I  would  not  give  him  my  promise  of 
marriage  until  I  had  seen  you  and  had  told  you  of  my 
love,  and  had  taken  one  moment  of  happiness  before  the 
door  is  closed  between  us  forever." 

This  answer  came  to  Hamilton  as  a  chilling  surprise, 
but  a  moment's  consideration  brought  him  to  see  that  the 
girl  was  right,  save,  perhaps,  in  telling  her  love  to  a  man 
she  could  not  marry.  His  knowledge  of  womankind  did 
not  help  him  to  know  that  her  hopelessness  had  been  a 
stimulant,  both  to  her  love  and  to  its  prodigal  expression. 
It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  what  she  had  done  and  said 
might  be  the  outpouring  of  her  despair,  and  that  even  a 
faint  hope  of  ever  possessing  him  as  her  husband  might 
have  operated  as  a  restraint  for  modesty's  sake.  There- 
fore, with  unconscious  perversity,  Hamilton  resented  what 
Frances  had  done  in  giving  him  her  unmeasured  love  when 
she  knew  that  she  could  not  give  herself,  and  he  spoke  from 
the  midst  of  his  pain :  — 

"I  know  that  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  your  husband. 
Even  had  you  not  taken  so  great  pains  to  tell  me,  but  had 
been  willing  to  wreck  your  life  by  marrying  me,  I  should 
not  have  accepted  the  sacrifice.  From  the  first,  my  love 
for  you  has  been  the  one  unselfish  impulse  of  my  life,  and 
since  I  have  almost  lost  hope  of  ever  being  worthy  of  you, 
L 


146          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

I  should  not  have  permitted  you  to  share  my  wretched  life, 
even  had  you  been  willing.  But  for  you  to  come  to  me 
and  to  give  me  your  love,  only  to  snatch  it  back  again 
before  I  have  had  time  to  refuse  the  sacrifice,  is  cruel." 

"I  do  not  snatch  my  love  back  again,"  she  answered 
pleadingly.  "I  could  not  if  I  would.  I  have  given  it  to 
you  for  life,  and  it  is  beyond  recall.  It  is  yours  forever  and 
forever  —  all  of  which  my  poor  aching  heart  is  capable. 
Would  you  rather  it  had  lain  in  my  breast  unspoken, 
through  all  the  long  years  I  have  to  live  ?  You  say  your 
love  is  unselfish  — " 

"If  there's  anything  unselfish  in  me,"  interrupted  Hamil- 
ton. 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  is  unselfish  to  the  extent  that  a  man's 
love  may  be,"  returned  Frances,  defending  herself.  "But 
if  it  is,  surely  you  would  not  deny  me  the  joy  of  telling 
you  of  mine,  when  it  is  all  the  happiness  I  shall  ever  know 
my  whole  life  through.  You  say,  with  truth,  I  believe, 
that  you  would  not  permit  me  to  share  your  fate  if  I  would, 
because  you  fear  to  make  me  unhappy.  Yet  you  com- 
plain and  say  that  I  am  cruel  because  I  take  now  what 
joy  I  can  at  so  shameful  a  sacrifice  of  womanly  pride  and 
modesty.  You  say  that  I  am  cruel  because  I  cannot  give 
you  all  —  myself.  I  would  share  your  fortunes  unhesi- 
tatingly were  it  not  that  I  dare  not  give  one  thought  to 
my  own  happiness." 

She  paused  for  a  moment  to  gather  self-control,  and 
when  she  was  more  calm,  proceeded  with  her  defence:  "I 
belong  to  my  father  and  to  my  house,  and  God  has  ap- 
pointed me  to  lift  them  from  their  fallen  estate.  I  can- 
not give  you  myself,  but  I  do  give  you  my  love  for  the 
sheer  ecstasy  of  giving,  and  beg  you  to  accept  it  as  all 
that  I  have  to  offer  and  to  give  me  the  sweet  privilege  of 
keeping  yours,  which  I  know  is  mine,  that  it  may  warm 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  147 

my  heart  in  the  weary  years  to  come.  I  wonder  if  you, 
being  a  man,  can  understand  it  all.  I  hardly  understand 
it  myself,  but  this  I  know :  I  have  done  what  I  have  done 
because  I  could  not  help  it,  and  you  say  that  I  am  cruel 
because  you  feel  a  part  of  the  pain  I  suffer." 

"No,  no,  I  was  wrong,"  said  Hamilton,  dropping  to  his 
knees  before  her  and  seizing  her  hand.  "Forgive  me  and 
believe  that  my  love  is  unselfish  and  that  it  will  be  yours 
so  long  as  I  live.  All  that  is  not  evil  in  me,  I  owe  to  you, 
and  I  am  striving  to  make  myself  more  worthy  of  your 
love,  even  though  I  must  surrender  you  to  another." 

"Betty  told  me  of  your  good  deeds  when  a  plague  was 
raging  in  Bishopgate  ward,"  said  Frances,  "and  Baron 
Ned  has  told  me  that  you  have  changed  your  ways  since 
leaving  court." 

"I  have  changed  since  I  learned  to  know  you,"  he  in- 
terrupted, "and  now,  with  my  first  effort  to  be  a  man, 
misfortunes  come  trooping  at  my  heels  so  fast  that  I  know 
not  what  to  do  nor  where  to  turn." 

"That  was  one  reason  why  I  came  to  see  you,"  she 
said.  "The  king  seeks  your  life  because  it  is  said  that 
you  threatened  his.  But  you  seem  to  know  your  danger, 
and  I  suppose  you  have  been  warned." 

"Yes,  Grammont  warned  me.  He  is  a  very  adroit  per- 
son and  is  my  friend.  He  stands  guard  for  me  at  court, 
partly  because  he  is  my  friend,  but  chiefly,  I  imagine,  be- 
cause it  is  the  command  of  his  king,  Louis  of  France.  I  do 
not  want  to  bring  Baron  Ned  into  trouble.  He  is  known 
to  be  my  friend,  and  the  king  might  have  him  watched,  so 
I  am  using  Grammont  as  my  spy  at  Whitehall." 

"Ah,  the  Frenchman?"  returned  Frances.  "It  was  he 
who  dubbed  me  the  'Duchess  of  Hearts.'  He  smiles 
graciously  when  we  meet,  but  with  all  we  hear  about  the 
wickedness  of  the  French,  Grammont  has  shown  me  greater 


148          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

respect  than  I  have  had  from  any  one  of  the  so-called 
gallants  about  the  court." 

"The  day  may  come  when  I  can  repay  his  kindness," 
said  Hamilton. 

"But  you  must  leave  England  at  once,"  continued 
Frances.  "The  king's  only  show  of  energy  comes  in  a 
case  such  as  this.  His  real  reason  for  seeking  your  life  is 
that  he  believes  you  stand  between  him  and  me.  You 
must  leave  England  without  delay." 

"I  mean  to  do  so,  now  that  I  have  seen  you,"  ne  re- 
turned. "The  desire  to  see  you  and  a  spirit  of  reckless 
bravado  has  kept  me  here  much  longer  than  prudence 
would  dictate." 

At  that  moment  voices  were  heard  in  the  room  above. 
George  pressed  Frances's  hand  to  enjoin  silence,  fearing 
that  the  sheriffs  were  at  hand.  But  presently  a  clanking 
noise  was  heard,  and  George,  listening  attentively,  whis- 
pered :  — 

"There  is  no  further  danger.  Lilly  is  opening  the  lever 
panel,  and  soon  the  floor  will  rise." 

In  a  moment  the  doctor's  voice  came  down  through  the 
wall,  asking,  "Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Hamilton.  And  then  he  led  Frances 
back  to  the  printing-press.  Instantly  the  floor  above  their 
heads  began  to  roll  back,  and  from  the  depths  rose  Frances 
and  Hamilton,  to  find  Betty  and  me  awaiting  them.  As 
they  came  up  through  the  floor,  Betty  began  to  laugh,  and 
soon  I  joined  her,  for  on  Frances's  eyes,  lips,  and  cheeks 
were  black  inky  patches,  indicating  plainly  the  exact  spots 
where  the  battle  had  raged.  Through  the  ink  spots  on 
her  cheeks  ran  furrows  ploughed  by  tears,  but,  withal,  my 
cousin's  beautiful  face  was  never  more  beautiful. 

"They  have  been  a-kissing,"  whispered  Betty,  seriously, 
leaning  towards  me  and  speaking  behind  her  hand. 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  149 

"No,  no,  Betty,"  I  answered,  trying  to  keep  a  straight 
face.  But  she  nodded  insistently,  evidently  much  sur- 
prised and  perhaps  a  little  shocked. 

By  the  time  Betty  and  I  had  concluded  this  interchange 
of  ideas,  Hamilton  and  Frances  were  by  my  side. 

"Why  are  you  here?"  asked  Hamilton,  turning  to  me 
and  then  to  Betty. 

"I  had  to  bring  him,"  answered  Betty.  "You  told  me 
to  tell  no  one,  but  I  had  to  tell  Mistress  Jennings  because 
she  cried,  and  I  had  to  bring  Baron  Ned  because  he  stormed 
and  said  that  he  knew  Mistress  Jennings  had  come  to  see 
you." 

I  supplemented  Betty's  answer  by  saying:  "I  was  sure 
Frances  had  come  to  the  Old  Swan  to  see  you,  so  I  fol- 
lowed, arriving  just  in  time  to  see  her  cross  the  courtyard. 
I  sought  Betty  and  asked  her  to  tell  me  where  you  were 
and  where  my  cousin  had  gone.  Just  then  three  sheriffs 
arrived,  searching  for  you,  and  I  had  to  wait  until  Betty 
got  rid  of  them.  Now,  here  I  am,  waiting  to  take  my 
cousin  home." 

"But  what  if  your  cousin  will  not  go  home  until  she  is 
ready,  and  does  not  desire  your  escort  ?  "  asked  Frances. 

"In  that  case,  I  should  advise  her  to  make  ready  at  once," 
I  replied. 

"And  if  she  does  not  want  your  advice?"  returned 
Frances. 

"In  that  case,  I  should  limit  my  advice  to  a  mere  recom- 
mendation that  she  wash  the  ink  stains  from  her  lips,  eyes, 
and  cheeks.  Master  Hamilton  has  pretty  well  covered 
the  ground  with  overgrown  beauty  patches." 

Betty  laughed  softly,  and  fat  old  Lilly  chuckled  as  he 
resumed  his  place  at  his  desk. 

There  being  no  mirror  in  the  room,  Frances  put  her 
hand  to  her  face  and  found  traces  of  printers'  ink  on  her 


ISO          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

fingers,  whereupon  she  blushed  and  laughed  and  was  so 
beautiful  that  we  all  laughed  from  the  sheer  delight  of 
looking  at  her. 

"Again  Baron  Ned  is  right,  Frances,"  said  Hamilton, 
offering  to  lead  her  toward  the  St.  George  door.  "You 
must  not  remain.  We  may  be  surprised  by  the  sheriffs 
at  any  moment,  in  which  case  you  would  suffer  in  reputa- 
tion and  I  might  not  be  able  to  escape." 

We  passed  into  the  tapestried  room,  and  after  Hamilton 
had  closed  the  St.  George  door,  we  paused  for  a  moment 
before  leaving.  Presently  I  started  to  go,  but  Frances 
held  back.  I  had  reached  the  outer  door  and  was  wait- 
ing, somewhat  impatiently,  when  Betty  came  up  to  me, 
opened  the  door,  drew  me  outside,  closed  the  door,  and 
whispered: — 

"Don't  you  understand?  They  would  be  alone  a 
moment." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Betty?"  I  asked,  laughing  at  her 
earnestness. 

"I  know  it,"  she  returned  emphatically. 

When  George  and  Frances  were  alone,  she  said:  "I 
shall  never  again  give  you  cause  to  say  that  I  am  cruel, 
for  I  shall  never  again  see  you."  She  tried  to  keep  back 
the  tears,  but  failed,  and  after  a  moment,  continued,  un- 
heeding them,  "If  you  could  but  know  the  joy  this  meet- 
ing has  given  me  and  the  grief  of  parting,  you  would  under- 
stand my  sorrow  for  having  wronged  you,  and  would  know 
the  deep  pain  of  farewell." 

"I  have  not  spoken  of  my  love  for  you,"  said  George, 
"because  it  is  so  plain  .that  words  are  not  needed  to  express 
it,  and  because  you  have  known  it  far  better  than  I  could  tell 
it  ever  since  the  sweet  days  on  the  Bourne  Path.  To  speak 
it  would  seem  to  mar  it  by  half  expression.  But  it  will  be 
yours  always,  and  I  shall  take  it  to  my  grave.  It  has  been 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  DRAGON  151 

my  redemption,  and,  as  long  as  I  live,  no  other  woman  shall 
enter  my  heart." 

He  fell  to  his  knee,  catching  her  hands  and  kissing  them 
passionately,  but  she  raised  him,  saying :  — 

"If  it  is  your  will,  I  shall  refuse  the  Duke  of  Tyrconnel, 
regardless  of  my  duty  to  my  father  and  my  house,  and  shall 
wait  for  you,  happy  even  in  the  waiting,  or  share  your  for- 
tune, be  it  good  or  ill,  from  this  hour.  Which  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Soon  I  shall  be  an  exile,  or  climbing  the  steps  of  a  scaffold 
on  Tyburn  Hill.  This  must  be  our  farewell.  Do  not  re- 
main a  moment  longer.  May  God  help  me  and  bring  happi- 
ness to  you  !"  said  Hamilton,  answering  her  question  all  too 
plainly. 

She  drew  his  face  down  to  hers  and  kissed  his  lips,  till 
from  very  fear  of  himself  he  thrust  her  from  him  and  led  her 
weeping  to  the  outer  door. 

When  Frances  came  out  to  Betty  and  me,  she  was  holding 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and  her  vizard  was  hanging 
by  its  chain. 

Sympathetic  Betty  lifted  the  vizard,  saying:  "Cover 
your  face  till  we  go  to  my  room.  Poor  mistress  !  It  must 
be  all  awry  with  your  love,  and  I  have  heard  that  there  is 
no  pain  like  it." 

We  climbed  the  steps,  and,  as  we  were  going  across  the 
yard,  Betty  twined  her  arm  about  Frances's  waist.  Wishing 
to  comfort  her  by  changing  the  subject,  she  said  :  — 

"I  have  neither  powder  nor  rouge  in  my  room,  but  I  have 
black  patches,  though  I  have  never  dared  to  use  one,  fear- 
ing to  be  accused  of  aping  the  great  ladies." 

"Betty,  there  are  no  great  ladies  so  good  and  beautiful  as 
you,"  said  Frances,  trying  to  check  her  weeping.  "If  I 
were  a  man,  you  should  not  go  long  without  a  chance  for  a 
husband." 

"Oh,   I've  had  chances  in  plenty,"   answered  Betty, 


152          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

proudly.  "But  father  says  I'm  too  hard  to  suit  and  will 
die  a  maid.  He  says  I  want  a  gentleman,  and  —  (Here 
she  sighed  and  glanced  involuntarily  toward  me.)  "He  is 
right.  I  will  have  none  other." 

"Seek  lower  and  fare  better,"  said  Frances. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  will  all  turn  out,"  replied  Betty 
with  a  sigh.  The  topic  seemed  to  be  alive  with  sighs.  "A 
woman  may  not  choose,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  one  day  take 
the  man  my  father  chooses,  having  no  part  in  the  affair 
myself,  though  it  is  the  most  important  one  in  my  life." 

"Nonsense,  Betty,"  returned  Frances.  "  You  are  like  the 
rest  of  us,  and  when  the  right  one  comes,  you  will  seek 
him  if  need  be  —  in  a  cellar.  Take  my  advice,  Betty,  when 
the  right  one  comes,  help  him,  and  thank  me  ever  after." 

When  we  entered  the  house,  Frances  went  with  Betty 
to  her  room,  leaving  me  in  the  tap-room,  waiting  to  take  my 
foolish  cousin  home. 

To  say  that  I  was  troubled  would  feebly  express  my  state 
of  mind.  All  my  dreams  of  fortune  for  Frances  and  glory 
for  her  family  had  vanished.  I  did  not  know  at  that  time 
that  she  and  Hamilton  had  agreed  never  to  meet  again, 
though  had  I  known,  I  should  have  put  little  faith  in  the 
compact. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING 

WHEN  Frances  came  downstairs,  she  and  I  started 
home,  walking  first  down  Gracious  Street,  and  then 
through  Upper  Thames  Street  toward  Temple  Bar. 
It  was  no  time  to  scold  her,  since  I  was  sure  that  she  knew 
quite  as  well  as  I  could  tell  her  the  folly  and  the  recklessness 
of  what  she  had  just  done.  I  also  believed  there  must  have 
been  an  overpowering  motive  back  of  it  all,  and  that  being 
true,  I  knew  that  nothing  I  could  say  would  in  any  way 
induce  her  to  repent  at  present  or  forbear  in  future.  I 
might  bring  her  to  regret,  but  regret  is  a  long  journey  from 
repentance.  If  her  heart  had  gone  so  far  beyond  her  control 
as  to  cause  her  to  seek  Hamilton,  as  she  had  done  that  day, 
it  were  surely  a  profitless  task  for  me  to  try  to  put  her  right. 
If  she,  who  was  modest,  honest,  and  strong,  could  not  right 
herself,  trying  as  I  knew  she  had  tried,  no  one  else  could  do 
it  for  her. 

Even  my  silence  seemed  to  be  a  reproach,  so  I  tried  to 
think  of  something  to  say  which  would  neither  bear  upon 
what  she  had  done  nor  seem  to  avoid  it. 

After  a  moment  or  two,  Betty,  that  is,  thoughts  of  her, 
came  to  my  relief,  and  I  said :  "If  Betty  were  at  court,  she 
would  rival  the  best  of  the  beauties.  There's  a  charm  about 
the  girl  which  grows  on  one.  I  have  known  her  since  she 
came  from  school  in  France,  over  a  year  ago,  and  the  more 
I  see  of  her  the  better  I  like  her.  She  has  grace  of  person 

153 


154          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

and  manner,  is  well  educated,  tender  of  heart,  honest,  and 
has  wonderful  eyes." 

"And  dimples,"  suggested  Frances.  "  You  might  win  her, 
Baron  Ned.  I  should  like  to  see  you  do  something  foolish 
to  bring  you  down  to  my  level." 

There  was  a  distinct  note  of  sarcasm  in  her  voice,  and  I 
felt  sure  that  if  I  remained  silent  there  was  more  to  come. 
I  was  not  disappointed,  for  presently,  after  two  or  three  false 
starts,  she  continued :  — 

"I  do  not  care  to  hear  your  comments  on  what  I  have  just 
done.  I  know  quite  as  well  in  my  simplicity  as  you  in  your 
wisdom  the  many  good  reasons  why  I  should  not  have 
visited  the  Old  Swan  to-day.  I  knew  before  I  started,  but  I 
should  have  gone  had  the  reasons  been  multiplied  a  thou- 
sand fold  in  number  and  cogency.  Therefore,  I  do  not  care 
to  hear  your  comments  on  the  subject.  I  should  have  gone 
just  the  same  had  I  feared  that  death  awaited  me.  I  had 
but  one  purpose  in  life,  and  for  weeks  have  had  but  one  — 
to  see  him.  If  I  was  willing  to  put  aside  the  love  of  my 
father  and  all  other  considerations  dear  to  me,  nothing  that 
you  can  say  will  do  you  any  good  or  be  of  advantage  to  me." 

"My  dear  Frances,"  I  replied,  "I  find  no  fault  with  you. 
I  am  sorry  you  had  to  do  it,  but  I  know  it  could  not  be 
avoided.  You  were  helpless  against  an  overpowering 
motive.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  yet  I  admire  you  more  than 
ever  before,  because  of  your  recklessness.  I  have  always 
thought  you  were  cold,  or  at  least  that  you  were  wise  enough 
to  keep  yourself  cool,  but  now  I  know  that  beneath  your 
beauty  there  is  a  soul  that  can  burn,  a  heart  that  can  yearn, 
and  a  reckless  disregard  of  consequences  that  on  occasion 
may  make  a  blessed  fool  of  you.  It  is  such  women  as  you 
who  keep  alive  the  spark  of  Himself  which  God  first  breathed 
into  man.  I  do  not  blame  you.  I  pity  you,  and  am  lost  in 
wondering  what  will  come  of  it  all." 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE   KING  155 

After  a  long  pause,  she  spoke,  sighing:  "Although  you 
may  not  understand  what  I  mean,  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
right  as  well  as  wrong  in  what  I  did.  I  owed  to  his  love, 
which  I  knew  to  be  true,  an  acknowledgment  of  mine,  but 
more,  I  had  wronged  him  grievously,  and  it  was  right  that  I 
should  make  what  poor  amends  I  could.  But  right  or 
wrong,  I  did  what  I  had  to  do,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  blame 
myself,  nor  to  hear  blame  from  any  one  else.  I  am  per- 
fectly willing  that  the  whole  world  should  know  what  I  have 
done  —  that  is,  I  should  be  were  it  not  for  father." 

"Again  I  say  I  do  not  blame  you,"  I  returned,  "though  I 
wish  sincerely  you  had  not  gone." 

"Why  did  you  follow  me,  and  how  did  you  know  where  I 
had  gone  ?"  asked  Frances. 

I  told  her  of  my  visit  to  her  father's  house  and  how,  upon 
my  failure  to  find  her  there,  I  went  to  the  Old  Swan. 

"I  thought  it  would  be  better  that  you  should  leave  the 
Old  Swan  with  me  than  alone,"  I  said.  "  It  would  have  been 
better  had  you  taken  me  with  you." 

"Would  you  have  gone  with  me,  knowing  my  errand?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  gladly,"  I  answered.  "When  a  woman  deliber- 
ately makes  up  her  mind  to  do  a  thing  of  this  sort,  she 
does  it  sooner  or  later,  despite  heaven,  earth,  or  the  other 
place  to  the  contrary.  I  should  have  gained  nothing  by 
opposing  you ;  I  could  at  least  have  given  color  of  propriety 
by  going  with  you." 

We  walked  up  Thames  Street  till  we  came  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Baynard's  Castle,  where  we  took  boat  and  went 
to  Whitehall,  each  of  us  in  silent  revery  all  the  way. 

While  I  was  paying  the  waterman,  Frances  ran  up  the 
stairs  to  the  garden,  and  when  I  followed  I  saw  her  talking 
to  the  king,  so  I  stopped  ten  or  twelve  paces  from  them 
and  removed  my  hat.  Being  in  their  lee,  the  wind  brought 


156          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

the  king's  words  to  me,  and  I  imagined,  from  the  loud  tone 
in  which  he  spoke,  that  he  intended  me  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  say.  Perhaps  he  suspected  that  I  had  helped  Frances  in 
her  morning's  escapade. 

"I  am  greatly  disappointed,  my  angel,  my  beauty,"  said 
the  king,  "that  you  have  taken  this  morning's  excursion." 

So  he  knew  of  her  "excursion,"  and  doubtless  had  insti- 
gated the  visit  of  the  sheriffs  to  the  Old  Swan. 

"What  has  your  angel  done  this  morning  to  displease  her 
king  ?"  asked  Frances,  with  a  laugh  so  merry  that  one  might 
well  have  supposed  it  genuine. 

"What  has  she  done  this  morning?"  repeated  the  king. 
"She  has  been  to  visit  the  man  who  seeks  the  king's  life. 
That  is  what  she  has  done." 

He  had  hit  the  nail  squarely  on  the  head  at  the  first  stroke, 
but  whether  his  accuracy  was  a  mere  guess,  or  the  result  of 
knowledge,  I  did  not  know.  I  trembled,  awaiting  the  out- 
come of  my  cousin's  conference. 

At  first  Frances  appeared  to  be  horror-stricken,  and  her 
surprise  seemed  to  know  no  bounds,  but  after  a  moment 
of  splendid  acting,  her  manner  changed  to  one  of  righteous 
indignation,  touched  with  grief,  because  the  king  had  so 
wrongfully  accused  her. 

"Your  Majesty  horrifies  me!"  she  exclaimed,  stepping 
back  from  the  king.  "Is  there  a  man  in  all  England  who 
would  seek  his  king's  life  ?" 

"There  is,"  returned  his  Majesty.  "And  you  have  been 
to  visit  him." 

Frances  denied  nothing.  She  was  simply  stunned  by 
grief  and  benumbed  by  a  sense  of  outrage  put  upon  her 
by  the  king.  So  after  a  moment  of  inimitable  pantomime, 
she  answered,  speaking  softly :  — 

"I  fear  a  gentle  madness  has  touched  your  Majesty's 
brain,  else  you  would  not  so  cruelly  accuse  me.  You  have 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  157 

so  many  weighty  affairs  to  trouble  you  and  to  prey  on 
your  mind  that  it  is  no  wonder  — 

"Did  you  not  set  out  this  morning  with  the  avowed 
purpose  of  going  to  your  father's  house?"  asked  the  king. 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,"  she  answered  soothingly,  almost 
pityingly.  "What  then?" 

"Did  you  go  there?"  asked  Charles. 

"No,  your  Majesty." 

"Where  did  you  go  ?" 

"Am  I  a  prisoner  in  Whitehall  that  I  may  not  come 
and  go  at  will?"  she  asked  indignantly,  knowing  well  the 
maxim  of  battle  that  the  best  way  to  meet  a  charge  is  by 
a  countercharge.  "If  so,  I  pray  leave  to  go  home  to  my 
father,  where  I  shall  not  be  spied  upon  and  suspected  of 
evil  if  I  but  go  abroad  for  an  hour." 

Her  grief  had  changed  to  indignation,  and  she  turned 
her  face  from  the  king,  drying  the  supposed  tears  and  ex- 
hibiting her  temper  in  irresistible  pantomime.  The  king 
was  but  a  man,  so  of  course  Frances's  tears  and  her  just 
anger  routed  him.  A  brave  man  may  stand  against 
powder  and  steel,  but  he  must  flee  before  fire  and  flood. 

Immediately  the  king  became  apologetic:  "I  do  not 
suspect  you  of  evil,  but  of  thoughtlessness,  my  beautiful 
one,"  he  said,  trying  to  take  her  hand,  but  failing.  "Nor 
have  I  spied  upon  you.  I  heard  that  you  had  gone  to  the 
Old  Swan  to  see  Hamilton,  whom  it  is  said  you  love." 

Pantomime  to  show  great  grief  and  a  deep  sense  of 
cruel  injury,  but  the  tears  ceased  to  flow  because  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  past  tears  now. 

"I'll  leave  Whitehall  this  day!"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head  dolefully.  "I  am  not  strong  enough  to  bear  your 
Majesty's  unjust  frown.  I  have  tried  to  do  right,  tried  to 
please  you  and  the  duchess  —  everybody,  and  this  is  my 
reward  !  I  know  little  of  Master  Hamilton,  having  seen 


158          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

him  only  a  few  times  in  all  my  life.  If  I  had  no  other  cause 
to  shun  him,  his  character  would  be  sufficient." 

Again  the  handkerchief  was  brought  to  the  eyes  effec- 
tively, for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  king  a  little  time  in 
which  to  see  how  grievously  he  had  wronged  her.  It 
required  but  little  time  for  him  to  realize  how  cruel  he  had 
been,  and  in  a  moment  he  said  pleadingly :  — 

"Your  king  asks  your  forgiveness.  I  do  not  suspect 
you  of  having  gone  to  see  Hamilton.  I  am  convinced  that 
I  was  wrong.  But  won't  you  tell  me,  please,  why  you 
visited  the  Old  Swan  ?  It  is  a  decent  tavern,  I  understand, 
but  a  public  place  of  the  sort  should  not  be  visited  by  one 
such  as  you  unescorted." 

"Your  Majesty  is  right,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  repri- 
mand," returned  Frances,  drying  her  eyes.  "But  Picker- 
ing, who  is  the  host  of  the  Old  Swan,  has  a  daughter, 
Bettina,  who  is  a  good  girl,  far  above  her  station.  She  is 
my  friend.  I  went  to  see  her  this  morning  to  drink  a  cup 
of  wormwood  wine  with  her.  Now  you  know  my  reason 
for  going." 

Wormwood  wine  was  considered  a  toper's  drink. 

Her  confusion  and  modest  hesitancy  in  confessing  to  the 
wormwood  wine  were  so  pretty  and  so  convincing  that 
the  king  laughed  and  seized  her  by  the  arm  affectionately :  — 

"Ah,  at  last  it  is  out!"  he  cried.  "I  have  discovered 
your  sin  !  I  knew  you  must  have  one  tucked  about  you 
somewhere.  Wormwood  wine  !  Absinthe  !  The  drink  of 
our  depraved  French  friends  !  Who  would  have  suspected 
you  of  using  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  murmured  Frances,  glad  to  be  found  guilty  of 
the  wrong  sin. 

"Ah,  well,  we'll  have  it  together  here  at  home,"  said 
the  king,  "so  that  you  need  not  go  abroad  for  it  hereafter." 

"No,  no,  I  shall  never  again  drink  wormwood,"  pro- 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  159 

tested  Frances.  *' Betty  Pickering  tells  me  it  causes 
vapors  in  the  head,  horrid  waking  dreams,  and  in  the  end 
incurable  spasms." 

"Your  resolution  is  well  taken,"  returned  the  king. 
"We  shall  seek  a  harmless  substitute." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation  his  Majesty  looked 
toward  me,  whispered  a  word  to  Frances,  and  they  walked 
down  the  garden  path  to  the  fountain,  while  I  waited  at 
Bowling  Green  for  Frances's  return.  When  she  came  back, 
she  told  me  in  detail  all  that  passed  between  her  and  the 
king. 

After  they  had  left  me,  the  king  began  to  talk,  and 
Frances  seldom  interrupted  him  save  to  draw  him  out, 
knowing  that  a  talking  man  sooner  or  later  tells  a  great 
deal  that  he  should  have  left  unsaid.  This  is  especially 
true  if  a  shrewd  listener  reads  between  his  words. 

"Nelly  Gwynn  tells  me  that  you  love  George  Hamilton," 
said  the  king,  "and  in  my  eyes,  that  is  his  greatest  crime." 

Already  his  Majesty  had  told  a  great  deal. 

"I  am  surprised  at  Mistress  Gwynn's  imagination  and 
her  lack  of  truthfulness,"  returned  Frances.  "I  told  her 
I  hated  him,  and  she  herself  heard  me  deny  that  I  knew 
him  when  he  offered  to  speak  to  me  two  months  ago  or 
more  at  the  Old  Swan.  Mistress  Gwynn  kissed  him.  I 
refused  to  recognize  him.  I  should  say  that  the  evidences 
of  affection  were  against  her  rather  than  me." 

"She  says,  also,"  continued  the  king,  "that  you  believe 
Master  Hamilton  killed  Roger  Wentworth ;  that  you 
recognized  him  the  night  of  the  tragedy." 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  sort,"  answered  Frances,  em- 
phatically. "I  saw  but  one  man's  face  distinctly.  Here 
at  court  I  have  often  seen  the  man  who  killed  Roger  Went- 
worth, and  I  shall  tell  you  his  name  if  you  insist.  He  is 
near  of  kin  to  your  Majesty." 


160          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

The  king  knew  that  she  meant  his  son  Crofts,  so  he 
hastened  away  from  the  subject. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  have  suspected  as  much,  but  I  beg  you, 
Frances,  to  spare  me  the  pain  of  hearing  the  truth." 

"Yes,  the  truth  is  a  frightful  thing,"  sighed  Frances. 
"Why  cannot  the  world  be  made  up  of  pleasing  lies  ?  But 
tell  me,  does  your  Majesty  mean  to  say  that  the  wretch, 
Hamilton,  seeks  your  life?" 

She  was  seeking  information. 

"He  does,  he  does,"  returned  the  king.  "While  he  was 
sick  at  the  Old  Swan,  one  standing  outside  his  door  heard 
him  declare  his  intention  to  kill  the  king.  When  I  heard 
of  the  threat,  I  summoned  his  physician,  one  Doctor  Lilly, 
who,  being  questioned,  admitted  that  while  in  a  delirium 
Hamilton  had  made  threats  against  the  king's  life,  but 
that  he,  Lilly,  had  supposed  the  French  king  was  meant. 
Lilly  is  a  good  faithful  subject,  and  I  often  use  his  astrological 
knowledge,  which  is  really  great,  but  in  this  case  I  suspect 
he  is  trying  to  shield  Hamilton,  believing,  perhaps,  that 
the  threats  meant  nothing  because  they  were  made  in 
delirium." 

"It  is  horrible  to  think  upon,"  answered  Frances,  shiver- 
ing. "But  he  has  gone  to  France,  and,  thank  Heaven, 
your  Majesty  is  safe.  Perhaps  he  has  gone  to  kill  King 
Louis." 

"How  do  you  know  he  has  gone  to  France?"  asked  the 
king,  much  interested. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  him.  He  imagines  he  is  in  love 
with  me,"  answered  Frances,  speaking  in  the  letter  of 
truth  and  with  a  fine  air  of  calmness.  She  had  received  a 
letter  from  George  in  France,  but  it  was  before  his  return 
to  England. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the  king.  "Your  news  con- 
tradicts your  avowal  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  him," 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  161 

"Shall  I  be  in  love  with  all  who  say  they  are  in  love 
with  me?"  asked  Frances,  glancing  up  to  the  king. 

"God  forbid!"  he  answered.  "I  would  have  you  in 
love  with  but  one  —  one  who  loves  your  voice,  your  beauty, 
your  goodness." 

"  Your  Majesty  may  at  least  rest  easy  so  far  as  Hamilton 
is  concerned,"  she  returned. 

"But  I  am  glad  that  he  is  out  of  the  country,  and  shall 
see  to  it  that  he  doesn't  come  back,"  said  the  king. 

His  Majesty  had  talked  too  long,  for  Frances  had  learned 
that  his  suspicions  of  her  love  of  Hamilton  were  not  allayed, 
despite  his  pretense  to  the  contrary. 

"I  care  not  where  he  be  so  long  as  he  doesn't  trouble 
me,"  answered  Frances,  sighing. 

"But  if  it  is  not  one  it  is  another,"  said  the  king,  rue- 
fully. "I  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Tyrconnel  is  mad  for 
love  of  you." 

This  was  a  welcome  opportunity  to  Frances,  and  she 
quickly  used  it.  "Yes.  At  least,  he  says  he  is.  What 
does  your  Majesty  advise  ?  Shall  I  marry  him  or  not  ?  " 

"By  all  means,  not!"  returned  the  king,  with  strong 
emphasis.  "He  would  take  you  from  court.  Do  you 
return  his  love?" 

"Well — "  answered  Frances,  drooping  her  head  and 
pausing  to  allow  the  king  to  fill  the  blank. 

"But  you  shall  not  marry  him,"  insisted  the  king. 

"But  you  would  not  have  me  live  a  maid  ?  Think  of  the 
humiliation  of  having  graven  on  my  tombstone :  '  Mistress 
Frances  Jennings,  Age  85.'  I'm  going  to  marry  the  richest 
man  that  asks  me." 

"  Odds  fish  !  that's  Tyrconnel !  "  exclaimed  the  king. 

"I'll  find  a  pretext  for  sending  him  to  the  Tower  at  once." 

"If  you  do,"  returned  Frances,  laughing,  "there  is  Little 
Jermyn.  He  will  be  rich  and  an  earl  when  his  uncle  dies." 

K 


162          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"I'll  send  him  along  with  Tyrconnel,"  declared  the  king. 

"And  there  is  -  "  began  Frances,  laughing. 

But  the  king  interrupted  her,  "I'll  send  every  man  to  the 
Tower  that  wants  to  marry  you,  if  I  depopulate  the  court." 

"But  here  comes  old  Lady  Castlemain,"  said  Frances, 
turning  to  leave  the  king.  "I  can't  quarrel  with  her,  be- 
cause I  can't  swear  with  her.  May  I  take  my  leave,  your 
Majesty  ?  " 

"I  am  sorry  to  grant  it,  but  good-by,"  returned  the  king. 

"Good-by,  your  Majesty,  and  thank  you,"  returned 
Frances,  grateful  for  much  that  the  king  did  not  know  he  had 
told  her.  Then  she  came  to  me  and  told  me  what  the  king 
had  said,  not  omitting  her  conclusions  based  on  what  he  had 
left  unsaid. 

Frances  and  I  walked  over  to  the  park,  where  we  stood 
for  a  time  watching  the  Duke  of  York  and  John  Churchill 
playing  pall-mall,  but  the  day  growing  cold,  we  soon  con- 
tinued our  walk  over  to  the  Serpentine,  where  we  found 
Tyrconnel  and  several  other  gentlemen  riding.  Tyrconnel 
dismounted  and,  leading  his  horse,  came  to  us.  He  took  no 
notice  of  me,  but  bowed  to  Frances,  saying :  — 

"I  hear  it  from  the  king  himself  that  Mistress  Jennings 
has  been  calling  on  her  friend,  George  Hamilton,  at  his 
lodgings  in  the  Old  Swan." 

"And  if  so,  is  it  a  matter  of  which  you  have  any  right  to 
speak  ?  "  asked  Frances,  smiling. 

"I  have  a  right  to  withdraw  the  proposal  of  marriage  I  so 
foolishly  made,"  he  retorted. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  answered  Frances,  laughing  softly. 
"But  you  need  not  be  angry  if  I  am  not.  How  fortunate 
for  me  that  I  had  not  accepted."  Then  turning  to  leave  and 
looking  back  at  him  :  "  May  we  not  still  be  friends,  my  lord  ? 
You  have  friends  at  court  who  are  as  bad  as  I,  even  if  what 
you  say  be  true,  You  say  it  is  true ;  the  king  says  it  is 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  163 

true;  therefore  it  must  be  true.  Two  men  so  wise  and 
honest  could  not  be  mistaken  in  so  small  a  matter,  nor  would 
they  lie  solely  for  the  purpose  of  injuring  a  woman.  No, 
it  must  be  true,  my  lord,  and  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
timely  withdrawal." 

We  had  not  taken  fifty  steps  till  Tyrconnel  gave  his  horse 
to  a  boy  and  came  running  after  us,  infinitely  more  eager  to 
retract  the  withdrawal  than  he  had  been  to  withdraw  his 
proposal.  He  protested  by  all  things  holy  his  total  disbe- 
lief in  the  scandalous  story,  and  begged  Frances  not  to 
remember  what  he  had  said  in  jealous  anger. 

"Be  careful,  my  lord.  Do  not  make  another  mistake," 
said  Frances,  laughing  in  his  face.  "I  did  visit  the  Old 
Swan  this  morning,  and  the  king  told  me  less  than  thirty 
minutes  ago  that  Master  Hamilton  lives  there.  It  is  said 
by  those  who  claim  to  know  that  he  is  in  France,  but  they 
must  be  wrong,  and  I  must  have  seen  him.  The  king  says  I 
did,  and  he  can  do  no  wrong.  I  neither  deny  nor  affirm, 
though  I  fancy  that  my  real  friends  will  not  believe  me  guilty 
of  the  indiscretion." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  protested  Tyrconnel.  "  I  know  you 
are  all  that  is  good." 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,"  returned  Frances.  "If  I  am 
good,  I  remain  so  for  my  own  sake.  As  for  the  gossips,  they 
may  think  what  they  please,  talk  about  me  to  their  hearts' 
content,  and  go  to  the  devil  for  his  content,  if  he  can  find 
it  in  them." 

Seeing  that  Tyrconnel  wanted  to  speak  with  Frances 
alone,  I  drew  to  a  little  distance  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  him  an  opportunity  to  press  his  suit,  in  which  I  so 
heartily  wished  him  success. 

It  is  uphill  work  making  love  to  a  woman  whose  heart  is 
filled  to  overflowing  with  love  of  another  man,  and  I  was 
sorry  for  poor  earnest  Tyrconnel  as  I  watched  him  pleading 


i64 

his  case  with  Frances.  He  was  not  a  burning  light  intel- 
lectually, but  he  entertained  a  just  estimate  of  himself  and 
was  wise  enough  not  to  take  any  one  of  the  daintily  baited 
hooks  that  were  dangled  before  him  by  some  of  the  fairest 
anglers  in  England.  But  manlike,  he  yearned  for  the  hook 
that  was  not  in  the  water. 

I  followed  Frances  and  Tyrconnel  back  to  the  palace,  and 
when  they  parted  at  the  King's  Street  Gate,  he  asked  me  to 
go  with  him  to  the  sign  of  the  King's  Head  and  have  a 
tankard  of  mulled  sack  and  a  breast  of  Welsh  mutton  right 
off  the  spit. 

Tyrconnel's  speech  was  made  up  of  an  amusing  lisp 
grafted  on  the  broadest  Irish  brogue  ever  heard  outside  of 
Killarney.  It  cannot  be  reproduced  in  print ;  therefore  I 
shall  not  attempt  it.  But  it  was  so  comical  that  one  could 
never  rid  one  s  self  of  a  desire  to  laugh,  be  his  Lordship 
ever  so  earnest.  As  a  result  of  this  amusing  manner  of 
speech,  his  most  serious  words  never  produced  a  thoughtful 
impression  on  his  hearers.  It  is  said  that  the  king  once 
laughed  when  Tyrconnel,  in  tears,  told  him  of  the  death 
of  his  Lordship's  mother. 

Arriving  at  the  King's  Head,  Tyrconnel  chose  a  table  in  a 
remote  alcove  of  the  dining  room.  After  the  maid  had 
brought  us  the  mulled  sack  and  had  gone  to  fetch  the  mut- 
ton, his  Lordship  began  earnestly,  but  laughably,  to  tell  me 
his  troubles,  and  I  did  my  best  to  listen  seriously,  though  with 
poor  result. 

"I  want  to  marry  your  cousin,  baron,"  he  said.  "Yes, 
yes,  go  on.  Laugh  !  I  don't  mind  it.  I  know  you  can't 
help  it.  But  listen.  I  want  to  marry  her  because  she  is 
beautiful  and  because  I  know  she  is  good.  But  if  she  is  in 
love  with  Hamilton,  as  report  says  she  is,  I  should  not  want 
to  inflict  my  suit  upon  her.  I  know  that  at  best  I  am  no 
genius,  but  I  am  not  so  great  a  fool  as  to  seek  an  opportunity 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  165 

to  make  myself  appear  more  stupid  than  I  am.  Of  course 
she  can  never  marry  Hamilton,  but  a  hopeless  love  clings 
to  a  woman  as  burning  oil  to  the  skin  and  is  well-nigh  as 
impossible  to  extinguish.  Therefore  I  beg  you  tell  me. 
Shall  I  beat  a  retreat  and  take  care  of  my  wounded,  or  shall 
I  continue  the  battle  ?  " 

"I  should  not  trouble  myself  about  the  wounded,"  I  an- 
swered, reluctant  to  evade  the  truth,  for  he  was  an  honest 
soul,  very  much  in  earnest. 

"But  do  you  speak  honestly?"  he  asked,  mopping  the 
perspiration  from  his  face  with  the  tablecloth.  "  She  laughs 
when  I  speak  seriously,  but  I  have  hoped  that  it  was  because 
of  my  damnable  manner  of  speech  rather  than  my  suit. 
Tell  me,  what  do  you  think  about  it  ?  Is  she  in  love  with 
Hamilton?" 

His  appeal  was  hard  to  resist,  but  I  answered  evasively  in 
the  spirit  if  not  the  letter  of  a  lie:  "Thus  much  I  know. 
My  cousin  has  seen  very  little  of  Hamilton  —  so  little  that  it 
appears  almost  impossible  for  one  of  her  sound  judgment 
and  cool  blood  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  him.  I  can  swear 
that  she  has  not,  nor  ever  has  had,  a  thought  of  marrying 
him.  She  had  better  kill  herself." 

"Ah,  that's  all  true  enough,"  he  answered.  "And  now 
that  he  is  in  disgrace,  with  a  noose  awaiting  him  on  Tyburn, 
it  is  of  course  impossible  for  her  to  marry  him.  But  you 
see,  my  dear  fellow,  she  may  love  him.  Nelly  Gwynn  says 
she  does." 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  "Nelly  set  the  story  afloat.  Her 
tongue  is  self  acting.  But  she  had  no  reason  to  do  so 
save  in  her  imagination  and  her  love  of  talking.  Half  the 
troubles  in  life  are  caused  by  your  automatic  talkers." 

I  then  told  him  of  my  cousin's  visit  with  Nelly  to  the  Old 
Swan,  laying  emphasis  on  Frances's  refusal  to  recognize 
Hamilton,  but  saying  nothing  of  the  fight  that  followed. 


1 66          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"I  am  glad  to  learn  the  truth,  if  it  is  the  truth,"  lisped 
his  Lordship,  musingly. 

"If  you  would  know  the  real  danger  to  Frances,  you  must 
look  higher/''  I  said,  cautiously  refraining  from  being  too 
explicit.  "There  is  one  whom  my  cousin  scorns,  but  from 
whom  she  is  in  hourly  peril.  There  is  no  length  to  which  he 
would  not  go,  no  crime,  however  dastardly,  he  would  not 
commit  to  gam  his  end.  I  watch  over  her  constantly,  and 
although  my  fear  may  be  groundless,  still  I  believe  that  her 
only  safety  is  to  marry  at  once  and  to  leave  court  with  her 
husband." 

"But  you  say  she  despises  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  she  even  hates  him.  Still  she  is  in  great  danger; 
perhaps  in  danger  of  her  life.  We  all  know  that  crimes  have 
been  committed  by  this  person  —  crimes  so  horrible  as  to  be 
almost  past  belief.  You  remember  the  parson's  daughter 
who  jumped  from  a  high  wall  and  killed  herself  to  escape 
him." 

"  You  are  her  guardian,  baron.  Let  me  be  her  watchdog," 
said  Tyrconnel,  leaning  eagerly  across  the  table  toward  me. 
"And  if  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  win  her  love  by  constant 
devotion,  she  shall  be  my  wife." 

I  offered  my  hand  as  a  silent  compact,  and  we  finished  our 
mutton  almost  without  another  word. 

Two  days  after  my  interview  with  Tyrconnel,  George 
Hamilton's  News  Letter  appeared,  containing  a  vicious  attack 
on  the  king,  which  angered  his  Majesty  greatly  and  seemed 
to  arouse  anew  his  suspicion  that  Hamilton  was  not  in 
France,  some  one  having  told  him  on  a  mere  suspicion  that 
George  was  the  editor  of  the  News  Letter.  His  Majest}/ 
accused  Frances  of  falsehood  in  having  told  him  that  she 
had  not  seen  Hamilton  and  that  she  believed  he  was  in 
France,  but  she  becoming  indignant,  he  again  apologized. 

Frances's  account  of  the  king's  state  of  mind  alarmed  me, 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  167 

and  I  determined  to  see  George  as  soon  as  possible  and  advise 
him  to  leave  England  at  once.  I  was  delayed  in  going,  but 
on  a  cold,  stormy  day  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  I  found  my 
opportunity,  and  took  boat  for  the  Old  Swan,  not  minding 
the  snow  and  sleet,  because  I  was  very  happy  knowing  that  I 
should  see  Betty.  I  had  of  late  done  all  in  my  power  to  keep 
away  from  her,  but  the  longing  had  grown  upon  me,  and  I 
was  glad  to  have  an  honest  excuse  to  visit  Gracious  Street. 

I  have  spoken  heretofore  of  my  engagement  to  marry 
Mary  Hamilton,  and  my  passion  for  Betty  may  indicate  that 
my  heart  was  susceptible,  if  not  fickle.  But  aside  from 
Betty's  Hebe-like  charms  of  person  and  sweetness  of  dispo- 
sition, there  were  other  reasons  for  my  falling  off  respecting 
Mary.  While  she  had  promised  to  marry  me,  still  there  was 
a  coldness,  perhaps  I  should  say  a  calmness,  in  her  manner 
toward  me,  and  a  cautiousness  in  holding  me  aloof  which 
seemed  to  indicate  a  desire  on  her  part  for  a  better  estab- 
lishment in  life  than  I  could  give,  if  perchance  a  better  offered. 
My  suit  had  not  prospered,  though  it  had  not  failed,  since 
she  was  to  be  my  wife  provided  she  found  no  more  eligible 
husband  within  a  reasonable  time. 

Dangling  blunts  the  edge  of  ardor;  therefore  I  soon 
found  myself  noticing  beauty  elsewhere  and  discovered 
none  that  could  be  compared  with  that  of  Betty  Pickering 
of  the  Old  Swan.  It  is  true  she  was,  in  a  sense,  a  barmaid, 
and  equally  true  that  I  had  no  thought  of  marrying  her. 
Still  it  was  significant  even  at  that  early  time  that  my  mind 
reverted  to  the  fact  that  Edward  Hyde,  Lord  Chancellor  of 
England  and  Earl  of  Clarendon,  had  married  an  innkeeper's 
widow,  whose  daughter  became  the  mother  of  two  queens. 

While  this  was  true,  still  I  respected  Betty  less  than  I 
admired  her  and  far  less  than  she  deserved,  never  entirely 
forgetting  her  station  in  life  nor  ceasing  to  recognize  the 
great  distance  between  us. 


168          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

When  I  entered  the  Old  Swan,  Betty  greeted  me  with 
a  smile  amid  a  nest  of  dimples,  and  led  me  upstairs  to  her 
parlor,  so  that  we  might  talk  without  being  overheard.  I 
sat  down  on  a  settle,  and  Betty  took  her  place  beside  me. 
Her  hands  rested  on  her  lap,  giving  her  an  air  of  content- 
ment as  she  turned  her  face  toward  me  and  asked :  — 

"Have  you  come  to  see  Master  Hamilton?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "and  you." 

"And  me?"  she  asked,  looking  up  with  a  curious  little 
smile.  "In  what  way  may  I  serve  you?" 

"By  sitting  there  and  permitting  me  to  look  at  you,"  I 
answered. 

"Oh,  is  that  all?"  she  asked,  laughing  softly. 

"And  by  smiling  once  in  a  while,"  I  suggested. 

"Who  shall  smile?  You  or  I?"  she  queried,  glancing 
slyly  up  to  me. 

"Oh,  you,  by  all  means,"  I  returned.  "There  is  no 
beauty  in  my  smile,  while  yours  — " 

"Come,  come,  Baron  Ned,"  she  interrupted,  looking  up 
to  me  pleadingly.  "My  smiles  are  honest,  and  that  is  all 
that  is  needful  in  my  case.  So  don't  try  to  make  me 
believe  they  are  anything  more.  Don't  make  a  fool  of  me 
by  flattery." 

"Don't  you  like  flattery,  Betty?"   I  asked. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do,"  she  returned,  smiling  and  dimpling 
exquisitely.  "But  it  is  not  good  for  me.  You  know  I 
might  grow  to  believing  it  and  you." 

"But  it  is  true,  Betty,  and  you  may  believe  me," 
I  answered,  very  earnestly,  taking  her  hand  from  her 
lap. 

She  permitted  me  to  hold  her  hand  for  a  moment,  and 
said:  — 

"I  am  so  desirous  of  keeping  my  regard  lor  you  and  of 
holding  your  regard  for  me  that  I  am  tempted  to  tell  you 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  169 

I  fear  it  will  all  change  if  I  find  you  inclined  to  doubt  that 
I  am  an  honest  girl." 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,  Betty,"  I  answered.  "I  know  you 
and  respect  you,  and  you  shall  have  no  good  cause  to 
change  your  regard  for  me,  if  you  have  any." 

"Frequently  gentlemen  are  rude  to  me  in  the  tap-room, 
and  I  submit  rather  than  make  trouble  by  resenting  it, 
but  you  have  always  been  respectful,  and  —  and  I  have 
appreciated  it,  Baron  Ned.  Father  says  I  need  not  go  to 
the  tap-room  hereafter,  but  may  direct  the  maids  in  the 
house,  now  that  I  am  growing  old  —  near  twenty." 

"  Twenty  ?  "  I  asked.    And  she  nodded  her  head  proudly. 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  you  were  still  a  child,"  I  remarked. 

"No,  no,"  she  returned,  looking  up  to  me  open-eyed 
and  very  serious.  "I  am  a  woman." 

"Yes,  a  beautiful  child-woman  —  the  most  beautiful  in 
all  the  world,"  I  said,  grasping  her  hand  and  holding  it  a 
moment  till  its  fluttering  ceased.  "And  I  am  jealous  of 
every  other  man  who  comes  near  you." 

I  saw  that  my  remark  had  offended  her,  so  I  continued 
earnestly:  "I  meant  it,  Betty;  I  meant  it.  I  was  not 
jesting." 

Betty  sighed,  looked  quickly  up  to  me,  half  in  doubt, 
half  in  inquiry,  and  was  about  to  speak,  but  closed  her  lips 
on  her  words  and  leaned  forward,  her  head  drooping  elo- 
quently. Her  gentleness,  her  sweetness,  and  her  beauty 
were  so  tempting  that  I  could  not  resist  their  charm. 
Again  I  caught  her  hand,  and  it  trembled  in  mine  as  she 
tried  faintly  to  withdraw  it.  I  tried  to  check  myself  but 
failed,  and  I  put  my  arm  about  her  waist.  Then,  after  a 
mighty  effort  to  stay  my  words,  I  said  pleadingly :  — 

"Ah,  Betty,  I  love  you.  Please,  please,  Betty,  believe 
me,  and  —  and  —  just  one  kiss." 


THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"No,  no,"  she  cried  pleadingly,  trying  to  draw  away 
from  me.  "It  could  not  be  honest  between  us.  You  are 
a  nobleman  —  I,  a  barmaid.  Your  friendship  is  very  dear 
to  me.  Please  let  me  keep  it,  Baron  Ned,  and  let  me 
keep  my  regard  for  you.  Let  there  be  at  least  one  man 
whom  I  do  not  fear.  You  know  there  can  be  nothing 
honest  between  us,  and  if  it  be  possible  that  one  so  lowly  as 
I  can  deserve  your  respect,  let  me  have  it,  Baron  Ned,  let 
me  have  it.  Let  me  keep  it,  for  it  is  the  dearest  thing  in 
life  to  me." 

There  was  such  deep  entreaty  in  her  voice  that  it  touched 
me  to  the  heart,  and  I  drew  away  from  her  immediately, 
saying :  — 

"I  do  know  there  can  be  nothing  honest  between  us, 
Betty,  and  knowing  it,  have  suffered.  What  I  have  said 
to  you  is  little  compared  to  what  I  feel  and  to  what  I 
would  say.  I  can't  help  it  that  I  love  you,  Betty,  but  you 
shall  never  have  cause  to  fear  me.  Do  you  believe  me 
and  do  you  trust  me,  Betty?" 

For  answer  she  held  up  her  lips  to  me.  What  she  had 
refused  on  my  request,  she  gave  of  her  own  accord,  saying  :— 

"There,  Baron  Ned.  Now,  if  you  really  respect  me, 
you  will  know  that  I  trust  you,  for  I  am  not  a  girl  to  do 
this  thing  wantonly.  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  done  it 
at  all,  but  you  must  know  that  I  could  not  help  it.  If 
you  care  for  my  friendship  or  are  concerned  for  my  happi- 
ness, I  beg  you  never  tempt  me  to  repeat  my  folly.  There 
is  no  other  man,  but  now  you  must  know  after  what  I  have 
done,  that  there  is  one  —  yourself.  But  there  can  be 
nothing  but  friendship  between  us,  Baron  Ned,  and  oh, 
that  is  so  much  to  me  !  Let  me  have  wtiat  haDDiness  I 
can  find  in  it ! " 

"But  I  love  you,  Betty,  and' I  know  that  you  love  me," 
I  answered,  unable  to  restrain  my  tongue. 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  171 

She  did  not  speak,  so  I  asked,  "Do  you  not,  Betty  ?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head  dolefully.  But  I 
knew  she  did  not  tell  the  truth. 

Presently  she  asked.  "Dp  you  want  to  see  Master 
Hamilton?" 

I  answered  that  I  did,  and  she  said  I  might  go  to  the 
printing  shop,  where  she  was  sure  I  should  find  him. 

She  rose  and  started  toward  the  door.  I  called  to  her, 
but  she  did  not  stop,  so  I  ran  after  her,  saying :  — 

"Have  I  offended  you,  Betty?" 

"No," she  answered,  drooping  her  head.  "But  I  am  very 
unhappy,  and  I  want  to  be  alone  so  that  I  may  cry.  You 
know  it  is  much  harder  to  forego  the  thing  one  wants  but 
may  not  take,  than  it  is  to  do  without  the  thing  one  wants 
but  cannot  take.  Yearning  for  the  impossible  brings  long- 
ing, for  the  possible  anguish." 

And  I  remained  silent,  almost  hating  myself. 

I  went  to  the  tap-room  with  Betty,  and  the  courtyard 
being  vacant  for  a  moment,  I  ran  across  and  down  the 
steps  to  see  Hamilton. 

I  had  tried  to  see  Frances  that  morning  at  Whitehall, 
but  failed,  being  told  that  she  had  gone  to  visit  her  father. 
I  had  stopped  at  Sir  Richard's  house,  but  Frances  was  not 
there,  and  I  half  suspected  I  might  find  her  with  Hamilton. 

I  found  Hamilton  at  his  printing-press,  and  after  I  had 
told  him  of  the  risk  he  ran  by  remaining  in  London,,  he 
said :  — 

"I  have  been  making  an  honest  living  from  my  News 
Letter  and  am  sorry  to  give  it  up,  but  I  fear  trouble  will 
come  very  soon  if  I  continue  to  publish  it.  The  king  has 
a  score  of  human  bloodhounds  seeking  me.  It  is  rather 
odd,  isn't  it,  to  hear  a  man  of  the  house  of  Hamilton  talking 
about  making  money  by  work,  but  of  all  the  money  I  have 
ever  touched,  that  which  I  have  made  honestly  from  the 


172          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

News  Letter  has  been  the  sweetest.  The  work  has  been  a 
delight  to  me,  even  aside  from  the  fact  that  it  gives  me  an 
opportunity  to  abuse  the  king.  Lilly  tells  me  that  the 
king  asked  him  to  consult  the  stars  concerning  my  threats 
against  the  royal  life.  The  result  was  favorable  to  me." 

"It  is  strange  that  the  king  should  be  duped  by  a  pal- 
pable humbug,"  I  remarked,  supposing  that  George  would 
agree  with  me.  But,  no !  He  turned  on  me  almost 
fiercely :  — 

"Lilly  is  not  a  humbug !  Of  course  he  humbugs  the 
king,  but  everybody  does.  I  have  known  him  to  do  some 
wonderful  things  by  the  help  of  his  astrological  figures, 
conjunctions,  constellations,  and  calculations." 

"Nonsense  !  All  humbug,  I  tell  you  !"  I  asserted,  some- 
what disgusted. 

"No,  it  is  not  all  nonsense,"  he  insisted.  "A  poor 
woman  lost  a  sum  of  money  ten  days  ago.  Lilly  set  a 
figure  and  told  her  where  to  find  it." 

"And  of  course  she  found  it?"  I  inquired  incredulously. 

"Yes,  she  found  it,"  returned  George.  "And  Lilly 
would  not  accept  a  farthing  for  his  service.  Two  months 
ago  a  child  was  stolen  from  its  home  in  Devonshire,  and 
the  parents  came  all  the  way  to  London  to  consult  Lilly." 

"And  of  course  they  found  the  child  ?"   I  asked. 

"They  did.  It  was  with  a  band  of  gypsies  who  made 
their  headquarters  at  a  place  called  Gypsy  Hill,  Lambeth," 
returned  Hamilton,  provoked  by  my  scepticism.  "He 
learns  some  very  curious  truths  from  the  stars." 

"The  stars!"  I  exclaimed  contemptuously.  "He  is  a 
shrewd  observer  of  men  and  of  things  about  him,  and  when 
he  guesses  right,  I  venture  to  say  he  finds  his  inspiration 
much  lower  than  the  stars." 

"Perhaps  he  does,"  returned  Hamilton.  "Of  that  I 
cannot  say.  But  this  I  know.  He  can  put  two  and  two 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  173 

together  and  make  a  larger  sum  total  than  I  have  ever 
seen  come  from  any  other  man's  calculations.  He  is 
learned  in  every  branch  of  knowledge,  and  I  respect  his 
wonderful  conclusions,  asking  no  questions  about  his 
methods." 

"Very  well,  I'll  not  dispute  with  you  if  you  admit  that  he 
receives  even  a  part  of  his  knowledge  from  substellar  sources. 
But  while  we  are  alone  I  want  to  ask  you,  and  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  the  truth  :  has  Frances  been  here  to-day  ?  " 

"No  !  Tell  me,  for  God's  sake,  tell  me  quickly  !  Why 
do  you  ask?"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  me  in  alarm.  "Of 
late  I  have  been  haunted  with  the  fear  that  she  is  in  danger 
of  violence  from  the  king.  He  is  capable  of  committing 
any  crime  —  has  committed  many,  as  we  all  know  !  Why 
do  you  ask  about  Frances,  Baron  Ned  ?  " 

"Because  she  is  not  at  Whitehall  nor  at  her  father's  house, 
where  the  duchess  said  she  was  going.  She  never  goes  any 
place  else,  and  it  only  now  occurs  to  me  to  be  alarmed." 

"Only  now?"  he  demanded  angrily.  "What  have  you 
been  doing?  I  supposed  you  were  watching  over  her.  A 
fine  guardian,  upon  my  word  !  Where  is  she  ?  Carried  off 
by  the  king,  of  course  !  What  else  have  you  expected  from 
our  friend  at  Whitehall  ?  If  harm  comes  to  her,  I'll  kill  him  ! " 

He  threw  off  his  printer's  cap  and  apron,  hastily  cleansed 
his  face  and  hands,  put  on  the  gray  beard  and  wig,  took  his 
broad  hat  and  long  coat  from  the  chest,  and  started  toward 
the  door,  bidding  me  follow. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?  "  I  asked. 

"To  Whitehall,"  he  replied.  "You  to  learn,  if  you  can, 
where  Frances  is ;  I  to  form  my  plans  what  to  do  in  case  you 
do  not  find  her.  You  must  go  to  the  river  ahead  of  me  and 
take  a  boat.  I'll  follow  in  another.  We  should  not  be  seen 
together.  You  stop  at  Sir  Richard's  house,  and  if  she  is  not 
there,  go  to  Whitehall.  Then  come  to  me  at  the  house  of 


174         THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Carter,  the  Quaker.  You  know  where  it  is  —  just  off 
King's  Street,  not  far  from  the  Cross." 

I  followed  Hamilton's  suggestion.  I  did  not  find  Frances 
at  Sir  Richard's  house,  so  I  hastened  to  Whitehall,  where  I 
learned  that  she  had  left  shortly  before  noon,  saying  that 
she  was  going  to  spend  the  afternoon  and  night  at  home.  It 
was  near  the  hour  of  three  o'clock  when  I  had  started  up  the 
river,  from  the  Old  Swan,  and  a  snowstorm  was  raging  which 
became  violent  before  I  reached  the  palace. 

While  I  was  talking  to  one  of  the  maids  in  the  parlor  of 
the  duchess,  a  page  came  to  me  and  whispered,  "A  lady  is 
waiting  for  you  at  Holbein's  Gate,  and  wishes  you  to  go  to 
her  as  soon  as  possible." 

I  suspected  that  the  lady  was  Frances,  so  I  hastened  to 
the  gate  and  found,  not  my  cousin,  but  Betty.  I  knew  her 
the  moment  I  saw  her,  despite  the  fact  that  she  wore  a  full 
vizard  and  a  long  cloak.  I  also  knew  that  nothing  less  than 
a  matter  of  great  urgency  would  have  induced  the  girl  to 
call  for  me  at  the  palace. 

The  snow,  which  had  been  falling  all  day,  was  now  coming 
in  horizontal  sheets,  laden  with  sleet.  The  wind  was  blow- 
ing half  a  gale,  and  the  weather  was  turning  bitterly  cold, 
yet  Betty  had  come  to  seek  me,  despite  weather  and  mod- 
esty. Eager  to  hear  her  errand,  I  led  her  toward  Charing 
Cross,  and  when  we  were  away  from  the  gate,  asked  :  — 

"What  brings  you,  Bettina  ?  I  know  it  must  be  a  matter 
of  great  urgency  that  has  induced  you  to  venture  forth  in  this 
terrible  storm.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"Nothing  for  me,  Baron  Ned,"  she  answered,  taking  my 
arm  and  huddling  close  to  my  side  for  protection  against  the 
storm. 

"For  whom,  then ?    Tell  me  quickly,"  I  asked. 

"I  fear  Mistress  Jennings  is  in  trouble,"  she  answered. 
"  Soon  after  you  and  Master  Hamilton  left  the  Old  Swan,  a 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  175 

girl  came  to  me  in  my  parlor  and  told  me  that  as  she  was 
passing  a  coach  standing  in  front  of  Baynard's  Castle  two 
hours  or  more  ago,  a  lady  called  to  her  from  the  coach  win- 
dow and  told  her  to  tell  me  that  Mistress  Jones  was  in  great 
trouble;  that  she  had  been  seized  by  two  men  who  were 
carrying  her  away.  She  said  the  lady  was  bound  hand  and 
foot,  and  that  immediately  after  she  had  spoken,  two  gentle- 
men came  from  Baynard's  Castle,  entered  the  coach,  and 
drove  toward  Temple  Bar.  The  girl  said  she  followed  the 
coach  till  she  saw  it  turn  into  the  Strand  beyond  Temple 
Bar ;  then  she  came  to  see  me." 

"Did  the  girl  say  at  what  hour  she  saw  the  lady,  Mistress 
Jones?"  I  asked.  "She  probably  did  not  catch  the  name 
Jennings." 

"She  said  it  was  two  hours  or  more  before  she  saw  me," 
answered  Betty.  "That  would  make  it  perhaps  between 
one  and  two  o'clock.  I  ought  to  have  questioned  her  more 
closely,  but  I  feared  to  delay  telling  you,  so  I  left  her  in 
my  parlor  and  came  to  see  you  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"Brave  Betty!  Sweet  Betty!"  I  exclaimed,  raptur- 
ously. "I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  kiss  you  a  thousand 
times  as  a  reward  for  your  wisdom." 

"And  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  be  content  with  other 
reward,"  she  answered,  though  her  words  took  a  different 
meaning  from  the  gentle  pressure  she  gave  my  arm. 

"But  tell  me,"  asked  Betty,  "do  you  know  where  Mis- 
tress Jennings  is  ?  " 

"She  is  not  to  be  found,"  I  returned.  "Beyond  a  doubt 
the  lady  in  the  carriage  was  my  cousin.  You  say  it  was  per- 
haps one  o'clock  when  the  girl  saw  her  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"It  is  after  three  now,  nearly  four,  and  will  soon  be  dark. 
We  must  hasten." 

We  fairly  ran  to  the  Quaker's  house,  where  we  found 


176          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Hamilton,  who,  forgetting  his  sacred  calling,  lapsed  into  the 
unholy  manner  of  former  days  and  used  language  which 
caused  Betty  to  cover  her  ears  with  her  hands.  We  did 
not,  however,  allow  his  profanity  to  delay  us,  but  hastened 
to  the  Cross,  expecting  to  take  a  coach  for  the  Old  Swan. 
But  none  was  to  be  found,  so  we  went  to  the  river,  where  we 
were  compelled  to  take  an  open  boat  with  a  steersman  and 
one  oarsman.  We  made  poor  headway,  having  to  beat 
against  the  wind  and  the  tide,  so  George  and  I  each  took  an 
oar.  After  a  time  the  man  at  the  steering  oar  said  that 
he  would  row  if  George  or  I  would  steer  the  boat,  but 
neither  of  us  knew  the  river  and  therefore  could  not  take  his 
place. 

Betty  said  that  she  knew  the  river,  having  kept  a  small 
boat  since  she  was  strong  enough  to  lift  an  oar,  so  she  took 
the  steering  oar,  and  with  four  sweeps  out  we  sped  along  at  a 
fine  rate.  I  shall  never  forget  that  water  ride.  We  seemed 
to  be  pulling  uphill  every  fathom  of  the  way.  The  black, 
oily  waves,  with  their  teethlike  crests  of  white,  rose  above 
our  bow  at  every  stroke  of  the  sweeps,  and  when  I  looked 
behind  me  it  seemed  that  we  must  surely  be  engulfed. 

The  snow,  driven  by  the  wind,  swirled  in  angry  blasts,  and 
the  damp,  cold  air  chilled  us  to  the  bone.  Our  greatest 
danger  would  be  when  we  came  to  land  at  the  Bridge  stairs, 
for  the  tide  was  pouring  in  through  the  arches  of  the  Bridge 
and  was  falling  in  a  great  cataract  just  below  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  One  false  stroke  of  Betty's  steering  oar  when  we  came 
to  land,  and  our  boat  would  be  swamped.  But  she  clung  to 
the  oar  and  brought  us  safely  to  the  stairs  within  a  fathom  of 
the  breakers. 

We  ran  up  Gracious  Street  and  found  the  girl  waiting  in 
Betty's  parlor.  But  Betty  had  told  us  all  there  was  to  be 
learned,  so  we  gave  the  girl  a  few  shillings  and  sent  her  home. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Betty,  feeling  that  she  had 


IN  FEAR  OF  THE  KING  177 

earned  a  right  to  couple  herself  with  Hamilton  and  me  by  the 
pronoun  "we." 

"I'll  go  to  see  Lilly,"  said  Hamilton.  "He  lives  in  the 
Strand,  not  far  from  Temple  Bar." 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  see  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

"He  will  tell  us  where  Frances  is  and  how  to  find  her. 
Will  you  go  with  me  ?  "  asked  Hamilton. 

"Certainly,"  I  responded,  though  I  considered  the  visit  a 
waste  of  time. 

"May  I,  too,  go?"  asked  Betty,  with  the  double  motive, 
doubtless,  of  helping  and  seeing.  Lilly,  engaged  in  his  in- 
cantations, would  be  an  inspiring  sight  to  her. 

"No,  no,  you  may  not  go  with  us,"  answered  Hamilton. 

Betty's  eyes  looked  up  to  me  entreatingly,  so  I  took  up 
her  cause,  and  suggested  :  — 

"Lilly  may  want  to  question  her  about  what  the  girl  said." 

"You  are  right,"  returned  George.  "Wrap  yourself 
up  well,  Betty,  and  come  along.  We'll  take  a  coach  to 
Lilly's." 

A  porter  soon  brought  us  a  coach,  and  Betty,  having  ex- 
plained to  her  father  where  and  why  she  was  going,  climbed 
in  with  George  and  me,  and  we  were  off. 


CHAPTER  IX 

KIDNAPPED 

WE  found  Lilly  at  home,  eager  to  help  us.  He  asked 
many  questions  relating  to  my  cousin's  life  and  her 
friends  at  court,  to  all  of  which  I  made  full  answer 
in  so  far  as  I  knew,  including  an  account  of  the  king's  ob- 
jectionable attentions.  I  suspected  that  the  Doctor  would 
make  more  use  of  the  knowledge  he  obtained  from  me  than 
of  that  to  be  received  from  the  stars,  but  I  did  not  care  how 
he  reached  his  conclusions  if  he  could  but  tell  us  how  and 
where  to  find  Frances. 

Lilly  questioned  Betty  also,  and  when  he  had  learned  all 
that  she  knew,  he  left  us  seated  in  the  parlor  while  he 
went  to  his  observatory  to  set  a  figure.  In  the  course  of 
ten  minutes  he  returned  and  gave  us  the  result  of  his  cal- 
culations, as  follows :  — 

"  I  believe  I  can  tell  you  where  Mistress  Jennings  is,  and 
how  she  may  be  found,"  he  said,  speaking  and  acting  as 
one  walking  in  sleep.  "But  your  failure  to  tell  me  the 
exact  hour  of  her  birth  lends  uncertainty  to  my  calcula- 
tions. I  have  all  the  particulars  concerning  the  nativity 
of  a  man  whom  I  shall  not  name.  I  have  read  the  stars 
many  times  for  him  and  on  many  subjects.  If  he  is  con- 
nected with  the  disappearance  of  Mistress  Jennings,  you 
will  find  her  at  a  place  called  Merlin  House,  six  leagues  from 
Westminster  and  half  a  league  from  the  Oxford  Road." 

Here  his  eyes  began  to  roll  and  he  seemed  to  be  under  a 

178 


KIDNAPPED  179 

spell.  He  made  strange,  weird  passes  in  the  air  for  a 
time,  then  became  rigid,  his  face  upturned  and  his  arms 
uplifted.  Betty  was  frightened  and  drew  close  to  my  side, 
grasping  my  arm. 

After  perhaps  a  minute  of  silence,  Lilly  began  to  speak 
again  in  low  sepulchral  tones :  "I  see  a  house  in  the  depths 
of  a  forest  dark  and  wild.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  high  wall. 
In  the  east  side  of  the  wall  is  a  double  door  or  gat^  of 
thick  oak,  which  you  will  find  locked  and  barred.  The 
house  is  of  brick,  save  a  tower  at  the  southeast  corner, 
which  is  of  stone  three  stories  high.  To  reach  the  house, 
you  must  travel  on  the  Oxford  Road  a  distance  of  six 
leagues  and  two  furlongs,  where  you  will  find  a  broken 
shrine,  erected  hundreds  of  years  ago  to  the  Blessed  Virgin. 
The  shrine  is  on  the  left  side  of  the  road  as  you  travel 
west,  one  hundred  paces  back,  on  the  top  of  a  low  hill  sur- 
rounded by  a  bleak  moor.  The  shrine  has  gone  to  decay, 
but  it  holds  a  sacred  relic  of  the  Blessed  Virgin." 

Betty,  who  was  a  Catholic,  crossed  herself  and  mur- 
mured an  Ave.  Lilly  continued :  — 

"On  the  apex  of  the  shrine  there  is  a  broken  cross.  The 
night  is  dark  and  you  may  pass  without  seeing  it,  there- 
fore I  shall  direct  you  how  to  find  it.  A  short  distance  this 
side  of  the  shrine  the  road  turns  sharply  to  the  left,  just 
before  crossing  a  bourne  which  is  six  leagues  from  West- 
minster. After  you  have  crossed  the  bourne,  bring  your 
horses  to  a  walk,  and  when  you  have  counted  a  number 
equal  to  the  sum  of  seven  times  the  square  of  eleven, 
counting  as  the  clock  ticks,  halt,  and  you  will  find  the 
shrine  on  a  hillock  in  a  bleak  moor.  You  may  easily  see 
it,  as  it  will  be  dark  against  the  snow.  Neither  rain  nor 
snow  touches  it,  and  the  storm  spares  it.  It  has  been 
abandoned  by  men  hundreds  of  years,  therefore  the  Blessed 
Virgin  protects  it  from  further  decay." 


i8o          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

He  seemed  to  be  a  long  time  coming  to  the  house,  but 
after  another  pause,  he  continued  :  - 

"Half  a  league  beyond  the  shrine  a  narrow  road  branches 
to  the  south.  Take  it,  and  soon  you  will  be  in  the  midst 
of  a  forest,  dark  and  wild.  The  road  will  be  dim  and  dim- 
cult  to  follow  in  its  windings,  but  your  horses  will  keep  the 
way  and  will  take  you  to  a  gate  in  the  midst  of  the  forest. 
Enter  by  the  gate  and  follow  the  road  winding  among  the 
trees  till  you  reach  the  double  door  or  gate  in  the  wall. 
The  house  will  be  dark  save  in  the  third  story  of  the  stone 
tower,  where  you  will  see  a  star  beaming  in  the  window. 
Raphael,  my  familiar  spirit,  will  hold  the  star  for  your 
guidance.  In  the  room  of  the  star,  you  will  find  the  per- 
son you  seek.  Delay  not!" 

He  stopped  speaking,  bent  forward,  breathed  upon  a  gold 
plate  covered  with  mystic  signs  which  rested  on  a  table, 
rose  to  an  upright  posture,  again  became  rigid,  stretched 
out  his  hands  with  face  upturned,  and  whispered  in  tones 
almost  inaudible :  — 

"Come  thou,  great  Raphael,  spirit  of  rescue,  and  help 
me  this  night  in  a  righteous  cause.  In  the  name  of  Jupiter, 
the  father  of  the  gods,  Mercury,  his  son,  and  Psyche,  the 
spirit  of  the  stars  !" 

He  stood  dazed  for  a  moment,  as  though  just  awakened, 
then  turning  quickly  to  me,  said:  "Lose  not  a  moment's 
time.  Hasten  at  once  to  the  rescue.  I  am  sure  my  direc- 
tions will  lead  you  to  her  whom  you  seek." 

Betty,  George,  and  I  gathered  our  hats  and  cloaks,  and 
George,  turning  to  me,  said  :  — 

"We  must  find  a  light  coach  and  four  good  horses.  The 
road  will  be  heavy  with  snow,  and  we  must  be  prepared  to 
travel  rapidly." 

"Father  has  four  good  horses,  as  strong  and  swift  as 
any  in  London,"  suggested  Betty.  "He  has  a  light  coach, 


KIDNAPPED  181 

too.  Let  us  return  to  the  Old  Swan  and  prepare  to  start 
at  once." 

"Betty,  you  are  too  wise  for  one  of  your  age  and  sex," 
said  George.  "But  without  your  wisdom,  I  don't  know 
what  we  should  have  done  this  night.  Let  us  go  im- 
mediately." 

Our  coachman  put  his  horses  to  a  gallop,  we  reached  the 
Old  Swan  in  a  short  time,  and  within  less  than  half  an 
hour,  a  porter  informed  me  that  a  coach  and  four  were 
awaiting  us  in  the  courtyard.  Pickering  lent  us  great- 
coats and  rugs  and  all  things  needful  to  keep  us  warm. 
He  did  not  know  the  exact  reason  for  our  journey,  but  had 
learned  from  Betty  that  it  was  undertaken  in  an  affair  of 
great  moment,  involving  my  cousin's  safety. 

George  and  I  each  carried  a  heavy  sword  and  a  pistol  in 
addition  to  two  hand  guns,  primed  and  charged,  which  lay 
in  a  box  on  the  coach  floor.  The  drivers  on  the  box  were 
each  armed  with  a  sword  and  a  pistol.  They  had  been 
reluctant  to  leave  the  kitchen  fire  to  face  the  storm,  but 
when  they  had  a  hint  that  a  fight  was  possible,  and  when 
Pickering  offered  them  a  guinea  each,  they  changed  their 
minds,  quickly  wrapped  themselves  in  greatcoats,  and  were 
on  the  box  when  we  came  out.  George  stopped  at  the  inn 
door  to  have  a  word  with  Pickering,  and  while  they  were 
talking  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  front  wheel  of  the  coach 
to  give  instructions  to  the  drivers.  I  told  them  to  drive 
at  a  moderate  gait  down  Candlestick  Street  and  the  Strand 
till  they  reached  Charing  Cross;  then  to  turn  up  towards 
Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields  and  take  the  crooked  road 
across  the  Common  till  they  reached  the  Oxford  Road. 
When  on  the  main  highway,  they  were  to  travel  at  full 
gallop. 

"How  long  is  the  journey,  sir  ?"  asked  one  of  the  drivers. 
"I  ask  so  that  I  may  know  how  fast  to  drive  the  horses." 


1 82          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"Between  six  and  seven  leagues,"  I  answered. 

"Ah,  they  can  go  that  distance  at  a  good  pace  if  we  on 
the  box  don't  freeze  to  death,"  he  returned,  buttoning  up 
his  greatcoat,  bringing  the  rug  tightly  about  him  and 
drawing  on  his  gloves. 

I  sprang  from  the  wheel  and  started  to  enter  the  coach 
just  as  George  left  Pickering,  but  when  I  put  my  foot  on 
the  step,  I  saw  a  small  man  sitting  in  the  furthest  corner 
of  the  back  seat. 

"Come,  come,  what  are  you  doing  here?  And  who  are 
you?"  I  asked,  stepping  into  the  coach  for  the  purpose  of 
pulling  the  fellow  out. 

I  was  greeted  by  a  soft  laugh  and  this  answer:  "I  am 
sitting  here,  and  my  name  is  Betty  Pickering." 

"My  God,  Betty,  you  can't  go  with  us,"  I  exclaimed, 
making  ready  to  help  her  out  of  the  coach. 

But  she  put  her  hand  over  my  mouth  to  silence  me  and 
whispered,  "The  men  on  the  box  must  not  know  me." 

Betty  pushed  me  backward  out  of  the  coach,  came  out 
herself  and  led  me  to  George,  who,  by  that  time,  was  half- 
way across  the  courtyard. 

"Who  are  you?"  cried  George,  surprised  to  see  the 
little  man  beside  me,  for  Betty  was  in  greatcoat,  trousers, 
and  boots. 

"I  am  Betty,  and  Baron  Ned  says  I  shall  not  go  with 
you." 

"No,  no,  Betty,"  answered  George.  "See  the  snow,  the 
sleet,  and  the  storm.  It  is  freezing  and  the  wind  cuts  like 
a  knife.  It  would  kill  you  to  go  with  us." 

"Think  a  moment,"  she  answered,  whispering,  so  that 
her  words  might  not  be  overheard  by  the  men  on  the  box. 
"Mistress  Jennings  may  need  the  help  of  a  woman,  but  in 
any  case  you  shall  not  have  the  coach  and  horses  if  I  don't 
go." 


KIDNAPPED  183 

"Does  your  father  know?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  yes,  come  on!  We  are  wasting  valuable  time," 
answered  Betty,  starting  toward  the  coach. 

George  and  I  were  helpless  against  Betty's  will,  so  we 
said  nothing  more,  and  she  climbed  into  the  coach,  taking 
her  former  place  at  the  left  end  of  the  back  seat.  George 
followed,  taking  the  middle  place  next  to  her,  and  after  giv- 
ing the  word  to  start,  I  followed  George,  taking  the  right 
hand  corner,  thus  leaving  him  between  Betty  and  me,  an 
arrangement  that  did  not  at  all  please  me.  But  my  dis- 
appointment was  short  lived,  for  hardly  was  I  seated  till 
Betty  spoke  in  tones  plainly  showing  that  she  was  pout- 
ing:— 

"I  want  Baron  Ned  to  sit  by  me." 

George  laughed,  he  and  I  changed  places,  and  when  I 
was  settled  beside  Betty,  she  caught  my  hand,  giving  it  a 
saucy  little  squeeze,  and  fell  back  in  her  corner  with  a  sigh 
and  a  low  gurgling  laugh. 

When  we  had  climbed  Gracious  Street  hill,  we  turned 
into  Candlestick  Street  and  drove  along  at  a  brisk  pace, 
George  and  I  watching  the  houses  to  note  our  progress. 

After  passing  Temple  Bar,  the  street  being  broader  and 
the  night  very  dark,  we  could  not  distinguish  the  houses 
save  when  a  light  gleamed  over  a  front  door  now  and  then, 
and  were  not  sure  where  we  were  until  we  saw  the  flam- 
beaux over  Whitehall  Gate  scintillating  through  the  falling 
snow. 

Before  reaching  Charing  Cross,  one  of  the  drivers  lifted 
the  rug  which  hung  across  the  front  of  the  coach  between 
us  and  the  box  and  asked  :  — 

"Did  you  say,  sir,  to  take  the  road  across  the  Common 
from  Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields  ?  " 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"Then,  sir,  have  your  pistols  ready,  for  it  is  the  worst 


184          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

bloody  stretch  of  road  about  London  for  highwaymen, 
though  I  doubt  if  they  be  out  on  a  night  like  this." 

"You're  not  afraid ?"  I  asked. 

"Devil  a  bit,  sir  !  I'd  rather  fight  than  eat,  but  I  thought 
maybe  your  honors  would  rather  eat." 

He  cracked  his  whip,  and  soon  we  were  over  the  dangerous 
ground,  travelling  along  on  the  Oxford  Road  at  a  fine  gallop. 
On  reaching  the  open  country  the  wind  gave  us  its  full 
force,  there  being  no  doors  to  our  coach,  and  soon  our  rugs 
were  covered  with  snow.  But  George  and  I  were  wrapped 
to  our  chins,  and  Bettina  nestled  cozily  down  in  her  corner 
untouched  by  the  storm. 

After  leaving  Westminster,  we  had  no  means  of  knowing 
our  rate  of  progress,  for  there  were  no  houses  near  the  road, 
and,  if  there  had  been,  we  should  not  have  known  them. 
The  drivers  kept  the  horses  in  a  strong  trot,  at  times  a  vig- 
orous gallop,  and  I  judged  that  we  were  making  nearly 
three  leagues  an  hour.  At  that  rate  it  would  require  per- 
haps two  hours  to  reach  the  shrine  mentioned  by  Lilly. 

We  had  instructed  the  men  on  the  box  to  watch  for  a  sharp 
bend  in  the  road  just  before  crossing  a  bourne,  and  we,  too, 
began  to  watch  soon  after  leaving  Westminster.  After 
what  seemed  to  be  a  long  time,  George  asked  me  to  make  a 
flare  in  my  tinder  box,  while  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  face 
of  his  watch.  This  I  did  under  the  rug,  and,  much  to  our 
disgust,  we  found  that  we  had  been  less  than  twenty  min- 
utes on  the  road,  so  provokingly  had  time  lagged. 

After  our  disappointment  we  lay  back  in  the  coach,  de- 
termined to  ignore  time,  and  thereby  perhaps  hasten  it.  In 
truth,  time's  lagging  was  not  unpleasant  for  me,  in  one  re- 
spect, at  least,  for  Bettina  was  by  my  side.  I  found  delight 
in  keeping  her  well  tucked  about  with  rugs,  so  that  not  even 
a  breath  of  the  storm  nor  a  flake  of  snow  could  reach  her. 
She  wore  a  great  fur  hood  which  buttoned  under  her  chin, 


KIDNAPPED  185 

almost  covering  her  face  and  falling  in  a  soft  warm  curtain 
to  her  shoulders  and  bosom.  She  was  warm,  and  aside  from 
our  great  cause  of  anxiety,  I  believe,  was  happy.  I  wished  a 
hundred  times  that  George  were  in  another  coach,  though 
had  he  been,  I  well  knew  that  I  should  have  said  a  great 
deal  to  Betty  which  on  the  morrow  would  have  been  re- 
gretted, both  for  her  sake  and  my  own. 

Just  at  a  point  when  time  seemed  to  have  halted,  the 
driver  lifted  the  rug  hanging  behind  him,  and  said  :  — 

"Here  is  the  bend,  sir,  and  yonder  is  the  bourne." 

Presently  we  knew  by  the  breaking  of  the  ice  and  the 
splashing  of  the  water  that  we  were  crossing  the  bourne,  and 
when  we  were  over,  George  called  to  the  driver,  directing 
him  to  allow  the  horses  to  walk  until  the  order  came  to 
stop. 

George  dropped  the  front  curtain,  and  turning  to  Betty 
and  me,  said  :  — 

"Now,  let  us  count  as  the  clock  ticks  to  the  number  847, 
and  when  finished,  we  shall  be  at  the  shrine." 

"We  are  more  apt  to  find  a  bleak  moor  and  a  sharp  blast 
of  wind,"  I  suggested. 

While  under  the  spell  of  Lilly's  incantations,  I  had  almost 
accepted  his  absurd  vaporings,  but  cooler  thought  had 
brought  contempt,  and  I  had  begun  to  look  upon  our  journey 
as  a  very  wild  goose  chase  indeed. 

"We  have  found  the  sharp  turn  in  the  road  and  the 
bourne,"  said  George,  "and  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  that  we 
shall  find  the  shrine." 

"Lilly  may  have  passed  over  the  road  and  may  know  that 
the  shrine  is  here ;  but  when  we  find  it,  what  will  it  prove  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"It  will  prove  nothing,  though  I  am  willing  to  stake  my 
life  that  we  find  Frances  in  Merlin  House." 

"Count !"  exclaimed  Betty,  sharply.     In  our  discussion, 


i86          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

George  and  I  had  forgotten  to  count,  but  Betty  had  been 
counting  under  her  breath  as  the  clock  ticks,  and  we  took  her 
number  and  started  with  it. 

We  all  reached  the  number  847  almost  at  the  same  sec- 
ond, when  we  stopped  the  coach,  and  sure  enough,  there  by 
the  roadside,  on  a  small  rocky  hillock  surrounded  by  a  bleak 
moor,  was  the  shrine.  Even  from  the  road  we  could  see  the 
fragment  of  a  cross  projecting  above  the  one  piece  of  wall 
left  standing.  One  would  hardly  have  taken  it  to  be  a 
shrine  unless  the  fact  had  been  suggested,  but  with  the 
thought  in  mind,  the  fragmentary  cross  was  convincing 
evidence.  Had  its  sacred  quality  been  suspected  during  the 
time  of  Cromwell,  not  one  stone  would  have  been  left  upon 
another,  but  no  one  knew  that  it  was  the  Virgin's  shrine, 
therefore  it  was  not  disturbed,  but  stood  there,  black  on  a 
field  of  luminous  white.  We  all  saw  it  at  the  same  moment. 
I  was  content  to  view  it  from  the  coach,  but  George  went  to 
examine  it,  and  returned,  saying :  — 

"It  is  a  shrine.  Part  of  the  cross  still  remains  surmount- 
ing a  fragment  of  a  wall." 

He  climbed  into  the  coach  and  was  about  to  give  the  word 
to  start  again,  when  Betty  spoke  up,  hesitatingly,  plead- 
ingly but  emphatically :  — 

"  Please  wait  a  moment.    I  want  to  see  it." 

I  followed  Betty  when  she  got  out  of  the  coach,  and,  as  we 
approached  the  shrine,  she  exclaimed:  "Doctor  Lilly  was 
right !  There  is  no  snow  on  the  shrine.  The  Virgin  pro- 
tects it.  There  must  be  a  relic  beneath  the  stones  ! " 

We  climbed  a  little  hillock  and  after  standing  before  the 
shrine  for  a  moment,  Betty  said,  "Please  return  to  the  coach 
and  leave  me  alone." 

"Why,  Betty?"  I  asked.  "You  may  speak  plainly  to 
me.  I  think  I  know  your  motive." 

"I  want  to  offer  a  little  prayer  to  the  Virgin  here  at  her 


KIDNAPPED  187 

broken  shrine  —  a  prayer  for  your  cousin  and  for  you  —  and 
for  me." 

I  knelt  with  her,  and  after  Betty  had  finished  her  simple 
invocation,  we  rose,  and  I,  who  at  another  time  would  have 
laughed  at  the  prayer,  felt  the  thrill  of  her  whispered  words 
lingering  in  my  heart.  I  seemed  to  know  that  we  should 
rescue  Frances,  and  I  also  knew  that  my  love  for  Bettina 
would  bring  me  nothing  but  joy,  softened  and  sanctified  by 
sadness,  and  to  her  nothing  of  evil  save  the  pain  of  a  gentle 
longing. 

Betty  felt  as  I  did,  for  when  she  rose  she  said,  "Now  we 
shall  find  Mistress  Jennings,  and,  Baron  Ned,  I  shall  fear 
you  no  more." 

"Have  you  feared  me  ?"  I  asked,  touched  to  the  quick  by 
her  artless  candor. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  sighing.  "Though  I  have  feared 
myself  more.  You  are  so  far  above  me  in  every  way  that  it 
is  no  wonder  I  am  bewildered  when  you  say  —  say  —  that 
you  — .  You  know  what  I  mean." 

"Yes,  Betty,"  I  answered  quickly,  feeling  that  she  had 
more  to  say. 

"I  was  bewildered  in  my  parlor  at  the  Old  Swan  to-day," 
she  said,  hanging  her  head.  "  Your  opinion  of  me  must  have 
fallen." 

"No,  no,  I  understood,  Betty,  I  understood,  and  I  dare 
not  tell  you  how  much  my  opinion  has  risen  because  I 
would  say  more  than  would  be  good  for  you  or  for  me,"  I 
answered  reassuringly. 

"But  you  must  remember  that  a  girl  has  impulses  and 
yearnings  at  times,  and  she  should  not  be  too  harshly  blamed 
if  she  sometimes  fails  to  beat  them  down.  But  now  it  will 
all  be  different.  The  Blessed  Virgin  will  help  us,  and  our 
conflict  is  over." 

Betty  and  I  started  back  to  the  coach,  both  feeling  the 


1 88  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

uplift  of  our  answered  prayer.  Probably  we  were  the  only 
devotees  that  had  knelt  before  the  shrine  in  hundreds  of 
years,  and  the  Virgin  had  heard  our  supplication.  It  was  a 
proposition  I  should  have  laughed  at  and  held  to  scorn  prior 
to  that  time. 

After  leaving  the  shrine,  it  was  only  a  few  minutes  till  the 
coach  turned  to  the  left  into  a  narrow  road,  and  we  were 
approaching  the  end  of  our  rough  journey.  We  continued 
to  travel  at  a  brisk  trot  and  came  to  the  forest,  "dark  and 
wild,"  of  which  Lilly  had  spoken.  Thus  far  his  "calcula- 
tions" were  correct,  and  I  was  beginning  to  take  hope  that 
they  would  continue  so  to  the  end.  After  half  an  hour  on  the 
winding  road  through  the  forest,  the  drivers  halted  at  the 
gate  of  which  Lilly  had  spoken,  and  in  ten  minutes  more  drew 
rein  beside  the  high  brick  wall  surrounding  Merlin  House. 

Without  the  least  trouble  we  found  the  gates  or  doors  in 
the  wall,  and  truly  enough,  they  were  of  "thick  oak  "so 
strong  that  we  could  not  feel  them  vibrate  when  we  tried 
to  shake  them,  and  so  firmly  locked  in  the  middle  that  we 
almost  despaired  of  opening  them.  The  wall  was  too  high 
to  scale,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  though  our  journey 
had  been  in  vain.  But  Betty's  keen  wits  came  to  our  rescue. 

When  George  and  I  had  examined  the  gates  and  had  almost 
despaired  of  opening  them,  Betty  undertook  an  inspection 
of  her  own,  and  presently  called  our  attention  to  a  hole, 
perhaps  four  inches  in  diameter,  in  each  gate,  which  was 
hidden  by  round  curtains  of  wood  hung  within,  so  completely 
closing  up  the  holes  as  to  make  them  invisible  save  on  close 
examination.  She  suggested  that  we  pass  the  trace  chain 
through  one  hole,  draw  it  out  through  the  other,  hitch  the 
horses  to  the  two  ends,  and  pull  down  the  wall  if  the  gates 
refused  to  give  way. 

Her  plan  was  so  good  that  the  horses  soon  opened  the  gate, 
though  it  required  a  strong  pull  from  all  four  of  them  to  do 


KIDNAPPED  189 

it.  Betty  and  I  were  the  first  to  enter,  George  following 
close  at  our  heels.  The  two  drivers,  who  had  taken  the 
horses  back  to  the  coach,  hitched  them  to  a  tree  and  soon 
followed  us,  bringing  the  long  leather  reins  to  be  used  as 
climbing  ropes  if  necessary. 

Hardly  had  we  entered  the  gate  till  we  saw  a  starlike 
gleam  of  light  in  a  window  of  a  room  in  the  third  story  of 
the  tower,  as  Lilly  had  predicted.  While  I  was  convinced 
that  the  light  came  through  a  hole  in  the  curtain  rather 
than  from  a  star  held  by  Raphael  to  guide  us,  still  my  scep- 
ticism was  rapidly  turning  to  awe. 

We  were  speaking  of  the  light  when  two  great  dogs  came 
bounding  out  of  the  darkness  and  attacked  us.  I  drew 
my  sword,  a  sharp,  heavy  blade,  and  being  much  frightened, 
began  to  swing  it  heroically  in  every  direction.  For- 
tunately one  of  the  dogs  happened  to  be  in  one  of  the 
directions,  and  I  split  its  head.  The  other  dog  attacked 
Betty,  but  George  ran  to  her  rescue  and  finished  the  animal 
before  it  had  time  to  bark. 

Having  vanquished  the  dogs,  we  hastened  to  the  tower 
and  stopped  beneath  the  window  of  the  star.  We  had 
hoped  to  attract  Frances's  attention  by  casting  pebbles 
against  the  window-pane,  but  we  had  counted  without  our 
ammunition.  We  could  find  no  pebbles,  the  snow  being 
at  least  a  foot  deep. 

A  thick  vine,  probably  an  ivy,  covered  the  front  of  the 
tower,  and  George  attempted  to  make  the  escalade  by 
climbing.  He  would  have  denuded  the  wall  had  he  con- 
tinued his  efforts,  for  the  vine  broke,  not  being  strong 
enough  to  bear  his  weight. 

"Let  me  try  it,"  whispered  Betty,  taking  off  her  great- 
coat, hood,  gloves,  and  boots  and  tossing  them  to  the 
ground. 

I  objected  to  her  risking  her  pretty  neck  and  limbs,  but 


190          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

she  insisted  that  she  could  make  the  ascent  easily,  and 
George  agreeing  with  her,  I  reluctantly  consented. 

Brave  little  Betty  at  once  began  the  ascent,  I  standing 
under  her  to  break  the  fall  if  she  should  take  one.  When 
she  had  climbed  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground,  the  vine 
broke  and  she  fell,  landing  gracefully  on  her  feet.  In- 
stantly she  was  at  it  again,  for  Betty  had  a  will  of  her  own 
greatly  disproportioned  to  her  size.  Again  the  vine  broke, 
and  when  I  picked  her  up  I  found  that  she  had  lost  her 
breath  by  the  fall,  but  she  laughed  as  soon  as  her  breath 
returned,  and  was  in  no  way  discouraged. 

In  a  moment  she  tried  again,  despite  my  protest,  saying 
she  would  go  more  slowly  and  use  greater  care  in  choosing 
the  larger  vines.  This  time  she  was  determined  to  succeed, 
so  she  again  tied  the  leather  reins  about  her  arm,  grasped 
the  vine,  and  within  two  minutes  was  standing  on  the 
upper  coping  of  the  second-story  window,  her  waist  on  a 
level  with  the  sill  of  the  window  of  the  star. 

The  wind  howling  through  the  trees  and  around  the 
corner  of  the  tower  made  so  great  a  din  that  at  first  we 
did  not  hear  what  Betty  said  to  attract  Frances's  atten- 
tion, but  presently,  the  storm  lulling  for  a  moment,  we 
listened  intently  and  heard  her  say :  — 

"It  is  Betty  Pickering." 

We  supposed  she  spoke  in  response  to  an  inquiry  from 
within,  and  we  were  right,  for  almost  instantly  the  cur- 
tains parted,  the  window  opened,  and  we  saw  Frances  stand- 
ing in  the  light  of  Raphael's  star  —  a  candle. 

Up  to  that  time  I  had  been  incredulous  of  Lilly's  wisdom, 
and  while  I  had  hoped  to  find  my  cousin,  I  had  little  faith 
in  the  result.  But  now  conviction  came  with  a  shock  and, 
notwithstanding  my  joy  at  seeing  Frances,  I  found  myself 
forgetting  where  I  was  in  wondering  whether  Lilly  were  a 
god,  a  devil,  or  merely  a  shrewd  charlatan  who  had  obtained 


KIDNAPPED  191 

his  wonderfully  accurate  knowledge  from  something  that 
had  happened  in  the  past  wherein  the  king  was  concerned, 
or  from  some  one  who  knew  where  Frances  had  been  taken. 

I  was  awakened  from  my  revery  by  hearing  George  call 
in  a  low  voice  to  Frances,  telling  her  to  fasten  the  ends 
of  the  leathers  to  a  bedpost  or  a  heavy  piece  of  furniture, 
and  asking  her  if  she  could  come  down  hand  under  hand. 
She  answered  that  she  could  and  took  the  end  of  the  reins 
from  Betty.  After  a  minute  or  two  spent  by  Frances  back 
in  the  room,  she  reappeared,  tossed  her  cloak  down  to  us, 
climbed  out  the  window,  and  stood  for  a  moment  beside 
Betty  on  the  lower  window  cap.  I  heard  Betty  encourag- 
ing her,  and  presently  Frances  began  her  descent,  reaching 
the  ground  safely.  George  would  have  been  demonstrative, 
but  I  interrupted  him,  saying :  — 

"Be  ready  to  help  me  catch  Betty  in  case  she  falls  !" 

Betty  started  down,  but  George  called  to  her,  telling 
her  to  climb  into  the  room,  loosen  the  reins,  and  throw  them 
out. 

"But  how  shall  I  go  down?"  asked  Betty,  whose  nerve 
was  deserting  her. 

"You  must  come  down  as  you  climbed  up — "by  the 
vines,"  returned  George. 

Betty  climbed  in  at  the  window,  and  presently  the 
leathers  fell  at  our  feet.  In  a  moment  she  reappeared,  put 
one  foot  out  the  window,  hesitated,  and  called  to  me :  — 

"I'm  afraid,  Baron  Ned.  It  seems  so  far,  looking 
down." 

George  started  toward  the  coach  with  Frances,  leaving 
me  and  one  of  the  drivers  to  care  for  the  girl  who  had  saved 
our  expedition  from  failure. 

I  could  help  Betty  only  by  encouraging  her,  so  I  spoke 
softly:  "Be  brave,  Betty.  Go  slowly.  Don't  lose  your 
head." 


192          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

"It  is  not  my  head  I  fear  to  lose ;  it  is  my  footing,"  she 
answered,  sitting  on  the  window-sill,  one  foot  hanging 
outside. 

"But  you  must  come,  Betty,"  I  said  encouragingly. 
"Now  say  a  little  prayer  to  the  Virgin,  and  you'll  be  all 
right." 

I  saw  her  bow  her  head  and  cross  herself,  and  the  prayer 
giving  her  strength,  she  climbed  to  the  lower  window 
coping  and  began  her  descent  on  the  vine.  When  half- 
way down  she  fell,  and  though  I  caught  her,  partly  break- 
ing her  fall,  I  knew  that  she  was  hurt.  I  helped  her  to  her 
feet,  and  she  said  breathlessly :  — 

"I'm  all  right.     I'm  not  hurt." 

But  when  we  started  toward  the  coach,  she  clung  to  me, 
limping,  and  began  to  cry  from  pain.  When  I  saw  that 
she  was  hurt,  I  caught  her  up  in  my  arms  and  carried  her 
to  the  coach,  followed  by  the  driver,  bearing  the  reins  and 
Betty's  hood,  cloak,  gloves,  and  boots.  Frances  was 
already  inside  the  coach,  and  George  was  about  to  follow 
her,  when  I  came  up  with  poor  helpless  Betty,  and  some- 
what angrily  ordered  him  to  stand  aside  while  I  made  her 
comfortable.  Frances  began  to  soothe  Betty,  whose  tears 
flowed  afresh  under  the  sympathy.  By  the  time  George 
and  I  were  in  the  coach,  the  drivers  were  on  the  box,  but 
before  we  started  one  of  them  lifted  the  curtain  and  said :  — 

"I  hear  them  moving  in  the  house." 

"Make  the  more  haste,"  I  answered. 

"Shan't  we  stay  for  a  fight,  sir?"  asked  the  driver, 
evidently  disappointed. 

"We'll  have  it  later  on,"  said  George,  and  the  next 
moment  the  coach  was  turned  and  we  were  on  our  home- 
ward road. 

When  we  reached  the  Oxford  Road,  the  horses  started 
at  a  smart  gallop,  and  we  began  to  hope  that  we  had  not 


KIDNAPPED  193 

been  discovered  by  the  inmates  of  Merlin  House.  But 
soon  we  heard  horses  galloping  behind  us.  After  a  consul- 
tation, George  and  I  concluded  to  stop  the  coach.  Frances 
and  Betty  were  much  alarmed,  and  begged  us  to  try  to  escape 
by  whipping  the  horses.  But  I  knew  that  our  pursuers, 
being  on  horseback,  would  soon  overtake  us,  and  I  was 
convinced  that  nothing  could  be  gained  by  attempting 
flight.  I  have  seen  a  small  dog  stop  a  larger  one  by  wait- 
ing for  it. 

So  we  waited,  and  when  our  pursuers,  a  half  score  of 
men  on  horseback,  came  up  to  us,  we  met  them  with  a 
fusillade  of  powder  and  shot,  which  persuaded  them  to 
allow  us  to  go  our  way  and  evidently  made  them  content 
to  go  theirs,  for  we  saw  nothing  more  of  them. 

On  the  way  to  London,  Frances  told  us  briefly  the  story 
of  the  day.  She  had  started  to  her  father's  house  and  had 
left  the  river  at  Baynard's  Castle  stairs.  It  was  near  one 
o'clock  when  she  left  her  boat,  and  the  snow,  which  had 
been  falling  for  an  hour  or  more,  covered  the  ground. 
When  she  reached  the  head  of  the  narrow  street  leading 
to  Upper  Thames  Street  from  the  river  stairs,  she  found  a 
coach  waiting  for  her.  The  driver  touched  his  hat  and 
asked  if  she  was  Mistress  Jennings.  When  she  answered 
that  she  was,  he  said  I  had  sent  him  to  watch  for  her  and 
to  take  her  to  Sir  Richard's  house,  the  snow  being  deep  and 
the  storm  violent.  My  name  and  Sir  Richard's  fell  so 
glibly  from  the  fellow's  tongue  that  she,  suspecting  noth- 
ing, entered  the  coach.  Within  three  or  four  minutes  the 
coach  stopped,  but  she  thought  nothing  of  it,  supposing 
the  way  was  blocked. 

While  waiting,  two  men  wrapped  to  their  eyes  in  great- 
coats came  up,  one  on  either  side  of  the  coach,  entered, 
threw  a  cloak  over  her  head,  and  bound  her  hand  and  foot. 
Immediately  the  coach  started,  but  presently  it  stopped 


194          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

again,  and  Frances  had  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  the 
girl  who  had  come  to  see  Betty.  Fortunately  a  button- 
hole in  the  cloak  which  the  men  had  thrown  over  Frances's 
head  happened  to  fall  over  one  of  her  eyes,  and  thus  enabled 
her  to  see  the  girl. 

When  our  pursuers  turned  back,  we  reduced  our  speed, 
so  that  the  journey  might  be  easier  for  Betty,  who  had 
moaned  at  every  jolt,  and  when  the  coach  went  smoother 
she  fell  asleep. 

After  we  had  all  been  silent  for  a  long  time,  Frances 
said :  — 

"I  have  been  thinking  it  all  over,  cousin  Ned,  and  if 
Master  Hamilton,  that  is,  George,  wishes  it,  I  will  go 
with  him,  regardless  of  consequences.  I  am  tired  of  the 
fight." 

"What?"  I  cried,  startled  almost  to  anger. 

"Do  not  run  me  through,  Ned,"  cried  Hamilton.  "This 
is  the  first  intimation  I  have  had  of  her  purpose,  and  to 
save  myself  from  slaughter  at  your  hands,  I  hasten  to  say 
that  I  will  not  accept  her  sacrifice.  It  were  kinder  in  me 
to  kill  her  than  to  marry  her." 

We  all  laughed  to  cover  our  embarrassment,  and  George 
said  ruefully:  "The  king,  I  fear,  will  settle  the  question 
without  consulting  us.  De  Grammont  tells  me  that  his 
Majesty  believes  I  am  in  London  and  that  he  is  eager  to 
give  a  public  entertainment  on  Tyburn  Hill,  wherein  I 
shall  be  the  principal  actor.  Now  our  beloved  monarch's 
hatred  will  be  redoubled,  for  he  will  suspect  that  I  helped 
in  the  rescue  to-night." 

"Do  you  suspect  him  of  being  privy  to  the  outrage  to- 
night ?  "  asked  Frances. 

"I  know  it.  There  is  no  villainy  he  would  not  do,  pro- 
vided it  required  no  bravery,"  said  George. 


KIDNAPPED  195 

"But  we  must  not  let  the  king  know  that  we  suspect  him," 
I  suggested.  "He  may  be  innocent  of  the  crime.  I  shall 
know  the  truth  before  to-morrow  night." 

"Did  you  see  him  at  Merlin  House?"  asked  George, 
turning  to  Frances. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "It  seems  that  the  drivers  of  the 
coach  lost  their  way  The  horses  were  poor  beasts,  and, 
owing  to  many  halts  on  the  road,  our  progress  was  slow. 
When  I  first  entered  the  house,  an  old  woman  led  me  to  the 
room  in  which  you  found  me.  The  ropes  on  my  wrists  and 
ankles  had  been  removed  soon  after  I  left  London,  but  I 
was  not  allowed  to  remove  the  cloak  until  after  the  old 
woman  had  closed  the  door  on  me.  Then  I  sat  down  so 
stunned  that  I  could  hardly  think.  But  it  seemed  only  a 
few  minutes  till  I  heard  dear,  brave  Betty  at  the  window. 
You  must  have  come  rapidly." 

When  we  told  Frances  our  side  of  the  story,  how  Betty 
had  come  to  Whitehall  to  see  me  and  had  been  the  real 
leader  throughout  it  all,  Frances  leaned  forward  and  kissed 
the  girl,  saying :  — 

"  God  bless  her,  and  you,  too,  Baron  Ned.  She  is  worthy 
of  you,  and  you  have  my  consent." 

In  further  discussing  Frances's  journey,  she  said  that  the 
men  who  were  with  her  in  the  coach  were  masked  and  that 
she  did  not  know  them,  but  she  was  sure  neither  was  the 
king.  They  did  not  speak,  save  to  tell  the  driver  to  travel 
slowly  to  avoid  reaching  the  house  too  far  ahead  of  the 
"other  coach." 

The  other  coach,  which  Frances  said  she  heard  enter  the 
gate,  arrived  not  more  than  ten  minutes  before  we  reached 
Merlin  House,  and  it  is  probable  that  we  were  undisturbed 
in  our  rescue  because  of  the  fact  that  supper  was  in  progress. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  by  George's  watch  when  we 
reached  the  dark  clump  of  houses  standing  west  of  Covent 


196 

Garden,  and  within  less  than  half  an  hour  we  were  in  the 
cozy  courtyard  of  the  Old  Swan. 

Pickering  was  waiting  for  us,  having  kept  vigil  alone  since 
midnight.  When  he  saw  me  carrying  Betty  from  the  coach, 
he  ran  to  us  with  a  cry  and  snatched  her  from  my  arms. 
We  followed  him  into  the  house  where  we  found  him  weep- 
ing over  the  girl,  and  kissing  her  hands  as  she  lay  on  a 
bench  near  the  fire. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  ?  Have  you  killed  my  little 
girl  ?  "  he  asked  sorrowfully. 

"I  hope  not,  Pickering,"  I  answered.  "She  had  a  fall  of 
not  more  than  eight  or  ten  feet,  and  although  I  fear  she  is 
hurt,  I  am  sure  the  injury  is  not  serious,  as  I  caught  her  and 
broke  the  fall." 

"Let  us  take  her  to  bed,"  suggested  Frances. 

George  went  to  fetch  Doctor  Price,  the  surgeon,  and  I 
carried  Betty  upstairs.  I  laid  her  on  the  bed,  and  after  I 
had  talked  a  few  minutes  with  Pickering,  explaining  to  him 
the  events  of  the  night,  and  telling  him  of  Betty's  glorious 
part  in  our  success,  I  went  downstairs  to  wait  in  the  tap-room 
for  George  and  the  surgeon. 

Presently  they  came,  and  George  and  I  followed  the  sur- 
geon to  Betty's  door,  where  we  waited  in  the  hallway  out- 
side to  hear  his  report.  Presently  Frances  came  out  to  tell 
us  that  Betty's  injuries  were  no  greater  than  a  few  sprains 
and  bruises,  and  that  the  surgeon  said  she  would  be  well  in 
a  few  days. 

I  could  have  shouted  for  joy  on  hearing  the  news,  but 
restrained  myself,  and  suggested  to  Frances  that  she  go  at 
once  to  her  father's  house  and  that  I  go  to  Whitehall  to  be 
there  before  its  awakening. 

If  I  learned  that  the  king  had  been  absent  during  the 
night,  I  should  know  with  reasonable  certainty  that  he  had 
been  privy  to  the  outrage  perpetrated  on  Frances.  If  he 


KIDNAPPED  197 

has  been  at  the  palace  all  night,  he  might  be  innocent  of  the 
crime. 

"In  neither  case  will  I  return  to  Whitehall,"  declared 
Frances,  indignantly,  when  I  spoke  of  the  possibility  of  the 
king's  innocence. 

"But  you  must,"  I  replied  insistently.  "We  must  say 
nothing  of  your  terrible  experience.  Publicity  of  this  sort 
ruins  a  woman's  fair  name,  but  the  result  in  this  case  would 
be  far  more  disastrous.  Fear  will  drive  the  king  to  further 
acts  of  villainy  to  protect  himself  if  he  learns  that  we  suspect 
him,  and  your  life  and  mine,  as  well  as  George's,  may  be  in 
peril.  I  shall  go  to  my  bedroom  in  the  Wardrobe,  and  no 
one  shall  know  that  I  have  not  been  there  all  night." 

Frances  seemed  stubborn,  but  knowing  her  danger,  I 
continued  :  "Let  us  have  a  conference  with  your  father  and 
your  sister.  I  deem  it  best  that  we  let  it  be  known  abroad 
that  you  were  at  your  father's  house  all  night.  Since  the 
the  king  did  not  see  you  at  Merlin  House,  he  may  come  to 
suspect  that  his  agents  kidnapped  the  wrong  person.  Later 
on  you  may  leave  court  with  honor ;  now  you  would  leave  in 
disgrace.  Right  or  wrong,  the  king  can  do  no  wrong,  and 
even  were  it  known  that  he  had  kidnapped  you,  every  one 
would  laugh  at  you  as  the  victim  of  a  royal  prank.  Many 
would  say  that  you  were  willing  to  be  kidnapped,  and  the 
court  hussies  would  rejoice  at  your  downfall." 

Frances  and  George  saw  the  force  of  my  argument,  and  we 
agreed  to  act  accordingly,  George,  of  course,  having  little 
to  do  in  the  premises  save  to  remain  hidden. 

In  a  few  minutes  Pickering  brought  us  a  coach,  and  Fran- 
ces and  I  drove  to  Temple  Bar,  where  I  dismissed  the  coach 
and  walked  with  my  cousin  to  her  father's  house. 

I  went  in  with  Frances,  and  we  aroused  Sir  Richard  to 
tell  him  of  his  daughter's  experience,  and  of  the  plan  of 
action  agreed  upon,  though  we  did  not  mention  the  king's 


198          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

name,  leading  Sir  Richard  to  believe  that  we  did  not  know 
the  guilty  persons. 

Sir  Richard  and  Sarah  readily  agreed  that  secrecy  was  our 
only  means  of  saving  Frances  from  ruinous  publicity.  Sarah 
especially  grasped  the  point  and  cleared  the  situation  of  all 
cloud  by  suggesting :  — 

"My  sister  has  been  here  ever  since  yesterday  noon,  as  my 
father,  John  Churchill,  and  I  will  testify." 

That  was  a  very  long  speech  for  Sarah,  but  it  was  a  help- 
ful one.  I,  too,  might  add  my  testimony  and  thus  furnish 
enough  evidence  to  convince  any  reasonable  person  that 
Frances  had  not  been  kidnapped,  but  had  remained  safe  and 
well  in  her  father's  house  through  all  this  terrible  night. 

Just  as  soon  as  our  plans  were  completed,  I  left  my  uncle's 
house  and  took  another  coach  for  Charing  Cross,  dismissed 
the  coach,  ran  down  to  Whitehall,  and  climbed  over  the  bal- 
cony to  my  closet,  glad  to  find  myself  once  more  at  home.  I 
did  not  permit  myself  to  sleep,  but  rose  at  the  usual  hours 
and  was  at  my  post  ready  for  duty  when  the  others  arrived. 

I  soon  learned  that  the  king  had  been  away  from  the 
palace  all  night,  having  left  in  a  coach  near  the  hour  of 
five  the  preceding  afternoon,  so  that  he  must  have  been  not 
far  ahead  of  George,  Betty,  and  me  on  the  way  to  Merlin 
House.  When  I  learned  that  he  was  away,  and  that  I 
would  not  be  needed  that  morning  at  the  Wardrobe,  I  went 
to  seek  Frances. 

Before  ten  o'clock,  the  hour  at  which  the  maids  assembled 
to  greet  the  duchess  in  her  closet,  Frances  was  on  hand, 
looking  pale,  and  explaining  that  she  had  been  ill  at  her 
father's  house  over  night. 

Near  the  hour  of  four  that  afternoon,  while  I  was  looking 
out  the  window,  I  saw  a  coach  approach  from  the  direction  of 
Charing  Cross,  and  seemed  to  know  that  the  king  was  in  it. 
I  hastened  to  Frances  and  told  her  to  station  herself  where 


KIDNAPPED  199 

the  king  could  see  her  before  he  went  to  his  closet,  and  per- 
haps speak  to  her.  I  stood  near  by,  and  when  the  king 
entered  I  noticed  him  start  on  seeing  Frances.  When  he 
came  up  to  us,  she  smiled  and  made  so  deep  a  courtesy 
that  one  would  have  thought  she  was  overjoyed  to  see  him. 

The  king  stopped  before  us  for  a  moment,  saying,  "We 
have  had  a  terrible  storm,  baron." 

"Indeed  we  have,  your  Majesty,"  I  answered,  bowing, 
"though  I  have  not  so  much  as  thrust  my  head  out-of-doors 
save  to  go  down  to  Sir  Richard's  yesterday  evening  to  fetch 
Mistress  Jennings  home." 

"Did  she  come  —  I  mean,  would  she  face  the  storm?" 
asked  the  king. 

"No,  no,"  answered  Frances,  laughing.  "Why  face  the 
storm  to  return  to  Whitehall  when  the  king  was  away  ?  I 
remained  with  my  father,  and  was  so  ill  that  a  physician  was 
called  at  seven  o'clock." 

"I  hope  you  are  well  again,"  said  the  king. 

"Not  entirely.  But  now  I  shall  be,"  she  answered,  laugh- 
ing. 

"You  mean  now  that  I  am  at  home?"  asked  the  king, 
shaking  his  head  doubtfully. 

"Yes,  your  Majesty." 

"If  your  heart  were  as  kind  as  your  tongue,  I  should  be  a 
much  happier  man  than  I  am." 

His  Majesty  sighed  as  he  turned  away,  and  the  expression 
on  his  face  was  as  an  open  book  to  me,  knowing  as  I  did  that 
he  had  just  failed  in  perpetrating  an  act  of  villainy  which 
would  have  hanged  any  other  man  in  England. 

One  of  the  king's  greatest  misfortunes  was  his  mouth.  He 
could  never  keep  it  closed.  A  secret  seemed  to  disagree 
with  him,  physically  and  mentally;  therefore  he  relieved 
himself  of  it  as  soon  as  possible  by  telling  any  one  that  would 
listen.  Knowing  this  royal  weakness,  I  was  not  at  all  sur- 


200          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

prised  to  learn,  two  or  three  days  after  our  adventure,  that 
it  was  being  talked  about  by  the  court. 

One  evening  at  the  queen's  ball,  my  Lady  Castlemain,  a 
very  cat  of  a  woman,  came  up  to  a  group  consisting  of  the 
king,  the  duchess,  Frances,  myself,  and  three  or  four  others 
who  were  standing  near  the  king's  chair.  Elbowing  her  way 
to  the  king,  near  whom  Frances  was  standing,  Lady  Castle- 
main  said :  — 

"Ah,  la  Belle  Jennings,  tell  us  of  your  adventure  Sunday 
night!" 

"Of  what  adventure,  la  Belle  Castlemain?"  asked 
Frances,  smiling  sweetly. 

"Why,  when  you  were  kidnapped  and  carried  to  a  coun- 
try house  for  the  night,"  returned  Castlemain,  with  a  vin- 
dictive gleam  in  her  eyes  and  an  angry  toss  of  her  head. 

"I  kidnapped  Sunday  night?"  asked  Frances,  in  well- 
feigned  surprise.  "No  such  romantic  adventure  has  be- 
fallen me." 

"Yes,  kidnapped  Sunday  night,"  returned  Castlemain, 
showing  her  teeth.  "Of  course  you  were  kidnapped  !  I'm 
sure  nothing  would  induce  so  modest  a  lady  as  the  fair 
Jennings  to  go  of  her  own  free  will.  She  would  insist  on 
being  taken  by  force.  Ha!  ha!  Force!" 

She  laughed  as  though  speaking  in  jest,  but  her  real 
intent  was  plain  to  every  one  that  heard  her.  Frances, 
too,  laughed  so  merrily  that  one  might  have  supposed  she 
considered  it  all  a  joke,  and  her  acting  was  far  better  than 
Castlemain's. 

"But  one  must  keep  up  an  appearance  of  virtue  and 
must  insist  on  being  kidnapped,"  said  Frances,  banteringly. 
"It  not  only  enhances  one's  value,  but  excuses  one's  fault. 
All  these  little  subterfuges  are  necessary  until  one  reaches 
a  point  where  one  is  both  brazen  and  cheap." 

Castlemain's  life  of  shame  at  court  had  long  ceased  to 


KIDNAPPED  201 

be  even  a  matter  of  gossip,  but  at  this  time  she  was  notori- 
ously involved  with  one  Jacob  Hall,  a  common  rope  dancer. 
Therefore  my  cousin's  thrust  went  home. 

"So  you  admit  having  been  kidnapped?"  asked  Castle- 
main,  with  little  effort  to  conceal  her  vindictiveness. 

"Sunday,  say  you?"  asked  Frances. 

"Yes,  Sunday  noon,  in  the  public  streets,  and  Sunday 
night  in  a  country  house,"  returned  Castlemain. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Frances,  pausing  for  a  moment  to 
recall  what  she  had  been  doing  at  the  time  of  the  supposed 
kidnapping.  Then  turning  to  the  Duchess  of  York,  who 
stood  beside  her,  and  who,  she  felt  sure,  would  catch  the 
hint  and  help  her  out,  she  asked,  "Were  we  not  playing  at 
cards  in  your  Grace's  parlor  Sunday  afternoon?" 

"Sunday  afternoon?"  repeated  the  duchess,  quite  will- 
ing to  thwart  Castlemain's  design.  "Yes,  my  dear,  Sun- 
day afternoon.  Yes,  we  began  just  after  dinner,  and  it 
was  almost  dark  when  we  stopped.  Don't  you  remember 
I  said,  after  we  had  lighted  the  candles,  that  I  wished  my 
husband  could  afford  to  give  me  wax  in  place  of  tallow?" 

We  all  laughed  except  the  king,  who  became  very  much 
interested,  and  of  course,  excepting  Castlemain,  who  was 
rapidly  losing  her  head  in  anger. 

After  the  duchess  had  spoken,  the  king  asked,  with  as 
careless  an  air  as  he  could  assume :  — 

"At  what  hour,  sister,  did  Mistress  Jennings  leave  your 
parlor?" 

"I  think  it  was  about  four  o'clock,"  replied  her  Grace. 
"She  asked  permission  to  spend  the  night  with  her  father, 
and  Baron  Clyde  called  about  four  o'clock  to  escort  her. 
Was  not  that  the  hour,  baron?" 

"Yes,  your  Grace,"  I  answered,  bowing.  "I  accom- 
panied my  cousin  to  her  father's  house,  returned  later  to 
fetch  her  back  to  the  palace,  but  she  did  not  care  to  face 


202          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

the  storm,  so  I  remained  till  ten  o'clock,  returned  to  White- 
hall, and  slept  till  morning.  Here  is  another  witness,"  I 
continued,  laughing,  as  I  turned  to  John  Churchill,  who 
was  standing  near  the  king.  "Step  forward,  Churchill, 
and  testify.  I  left  him  making  his  suit  to  one  of  the  most 
interesting  ladies  in  London." 

The  king  turned  with  an  inquiring  look,  and  Churchill 
answered:  "Yes,  your  Majesty,  it  is  all  true.  I  was 
making  my  suit  until  near  the  hour  of  eleven,  when  Mistress 
Jennings,  who  was  ill,  told  me  it  was  time  to  go  home.  If 
she  was  kidnapped  Sunday  night,  it  was  before  five  o'clock 
or  after  eleven." 

I  flattered  myself  that  we  had  all  done  a  neat  bit  of  con- 
vincing lying  in  a  good  cause. 

"Odds  fish  !"  mumbled  the  king,  pulling  his  chin  beard, 
evidently  puzzled. 

"Odds  fish!"  exclaimed  Frances,  mimicking  the  king's 
tone  of  voice  and  twisting  an  imaginary  beard.  "Some 
one  has  been  hoaxing  Jacob  Hall's  friend." 

It  was  a  bold  speech,  but  Frances  carried  it  of!  splendidly 
by  turning  to  the  king  and  speaking  in  mock  seriousness :  - 

"Your  Majesty  should  put  a  check  on  Rochester  and 
the  wags.  It  is  a  shame  to  permit  them  to  work  upon  the 
credulity  of  one  who  is  growing  weak  in  mind  by  reason  of 
age." 

The  country  girl  had  vanquished  the  terror  of  the  court, 
and  all  who  had  witnessed  the  battle  rejoiced ;  that  is,  all 
save  the  king  and  Castlemain.  She  glared  at  Frances,  and 
her  face,  usually  beautiful  despite  the  lack  of  youth,  be- 
came hideous  with  rage.  She  was  making  ready  for  an- 
other attack  of  words,  if  not  of  finger  nails,  when  the 
duchess  interposed,  saying :  — 

"Evidently  some  one  has  been  hoaxing  you,  Lady  Castle- 
main.  Mistress  Tennine-s  was  not  kidnapped  Sunday  nor 


KIDNAPPED  203 

any  other  day.  She  has  been  with  me  constantly  of  late, 
excepting  Sunday  after  four  o'clock,  and  she  has  accounted 
for  herself  from  that  time  till  her  return  to  my  closet." 

Castlemain  was  whipped  out,  so  she  turned  the  whole 
matter  off  with  a  forced  laugh,  saying :  — 

"It  was  that  fool  Rochester  who  set  the  rumor  afloat." 

After  standing  through  an  awkward  minute  or  two, 
Castlemain  bowed  stiffly  to  the  king  and  the  duchess, 
turned  away  from  our  group,  and  soon  left  the  ballroom. 

When  Castlemain  was  gone,  we  all  laughed  save  the  king. 
Presently  he  left  us,  and  I  saw  him  beckon  Wentworth  and 
Berkeley  to  his  side.  I  followed  him  as  though  going  to 
the  other  side  of  the  gallery,  but  walked  slowly  when  I 
approached  him  and  the  two  worthy  villains.  I  was  re- 
warded by  hearing  his  Majesty  say :  — 

"Odds  fish  !  But  you  made  a  mess  of  it !  You  got  the 
wrong  woman  !  Who  in  the  devil's  name  did  you  pick 
up?" 

I  could  not  stop  to  hear  the  rest  of  this  interesting  con- 
versation, but  two  days  later  I  heard  from  Rochester,  who 
had  it  from  Wentworth,  that  the  following  occurred :  — 

"We  thought  we  had  her,"  answered  Berkeley,  nodding 
towards  Frances,  but  the  woman  wore  a  full  vizard  and 
was  wrapped  in  furs  to  her  ears,  so  that  we  did  not  see  her 
face." 

"Do  you  suppose  we  could  have  made  a  mistake?" 
asked  Wentworth. 

"You  surely  did,"  answered  the  king.  "She  has  estab- 
lished an  alibi.  At  what  hour  did  you  leave  Baynard's 
Castle?" 

"Near  one  o'clock,"  returned  Berkeley. 

"One  o'clock  !  She  was  playing  cards  with  the  duchess 
till  four,"  exclaimed  the  king,  impatiently.  "You  picked 
up  the  wrong  woman.  But  I'm  glad  you  did.  I  suppose 


204          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

the  lampooners  will  get  hold  of  the  story  and  will  set  every 
one  laughing  at  me.  Kidnapped  the  wrong  woman  and  lost 
her !  Odds  fish  !  But  you're  a  pair  of  wise  ones.  I  see  I 
shall  have  to  find  me  a  new  Lord  High  Kidnapper." 

The  king  was  right  concerning  the  lampooners,  for  soon 
they  had  the  story,  and  he  became  the  laughing-stock  of 
London,  though  Frances's  name  was  not  mentioned. 

It  is  a  significant  index  to  the  morals  of  our  time  that 
the  king's  attempt  to  kidnap  a  woman  in  the  streets  of 
London  should  have  aroused  laughter  rather  than  indig- 
nation. 

As  it  was,  the  kidnapping  episode  brought  no  harm  to  my 
cousin,  but  she  did  not  want  it  to  happen  again,  and  so 
was  careful  to  take  a  trusted  escort  with  her  when  she 
went  abroad  thereafter. 


CHAPTER  X 

Ax  THE  MAID'S  GARTER 

BETTY  was  confined  to  her  room  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  next  month,  and  Frances  visited  her 
frequently.     Notwithstanding  my  vows  not  to  see 
Betty,  I  was  compelled  to  go  with  Frances  as  her  body-guard. 
I  even  went  so  far  in  my  feeble  effort  to  keep  my  resolution 
as  to  suggest  Churchill  as  a  body-guard,  but  Frances  ob- 
jected, and  the  quality  of  my  good  intent  was  not  enduring. 
So  I  went  with  my  cousin,  and  the  joy  in  Betty's  eyes 
whenever  we  entered  her  room  was   not    the    sort    that 
would  come  because  she  was  glad  to  see  Frances. 

During  the  first  week  of  Bettina's  illness  she  was  too  sick 
to  talk,  therefore  we  did  not  remain  long  with  her.  But 
as  she  grew  better  our  visits  lengthened,  and  my  poor 
resolutions  grew  weaker  day  by  day  because  my  love  for 
the  girl  was  growing  stronger  and  stronger  hour  by  hour. 

On  one  occasion  while  Frances's  back  was  turned,  Betty 
impulsively  snatched  up  my  hand  and  kissed  it,  dropping 
it  instantly,  blushing  intensely  and  covering  her  tracks  by 
humming  the  refrain  of  a  French  lullaby.  I  longed  to 
return  the  caress,  but  did  not,  and  took  great  credit  to 
myself  because  of  my  self-denial.  Betty  understood  my 
sacrifice  and  appreciated  it,  feeling  sure  that  she  need  not 
thereafter  restrain  herself  for  the  purpose  of  restraining  me. 

During  those  times  I  was  making  an  honest  effort  to  do 

205 


206          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

the  right  by  this  beautiful  child-woman  and  to  save  my 
own  honor  unsullied  from  the  sin  of  making  her  unhappy 
for  life  through  winning  her  love  beyond  her  power  to 
recall ;  and  my  effort  toward  the  right,  like  all  such  efforts, 
achieved  at  least  a  part  of  the  good  for  which  I  strove. 

One  day  after  our  visit  to  Betty's  room,  Frances  asked 
me  to  take  her  to  see  George.  I  suspected  that  she  had 
seen  him  frequently,  but  was  not  sure.  I  objected,  but 
changed  my  mind  when  she  said  :  — 

"Very  well.     I  prefer  going  alone." 

I  shall  not  try  to  describe  the  scene  between  them.  We 
found  George  alone,  and  she  sprang  to  him  as  the  iron  springs 
to  the  magnet. 

I  knew  then,  if  never  before,  that  there  could  be  no  happi- 
ness in  this  world  for  her  away  from  him.  Whether  she 
would  find  it  with  him  was  impossible  for  me  to  know,  but 
I  saw  that  she  was  in  the  grip  of  a  mighty  passion,  and  I 
could  only  hope  that  a  way  would  open  to  save  her. 

Hamilton's  fortunes  would  need  to  mend  a  great  deal  before 
he  could  or  would  ask  her  to  be  his  wife,  for  now  he  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ladder.  He  lost  no  opportunity  to  impress 
this  disagreeable  truth  upon  her,  but  his  honest  efforts  to 
hold  himself  aloof  only  increased  her  respect  and  love  for 
him.  It  not  only  convinced  her  that  notwithstanding  his 
past  life,  he  was  a  man  of  honor  capable  of  resisting  himself 
and  of  protecting  her,  but  it  gave  him  the  quality  so  irre- 
sistible to  a  woman  —  unattainability. 

Taking  it  all  in  all,  my  poor  beautiful  cousin  was  falling 
day  by  day  deeper  into  an  abyss  of  love  from  which  she 
could  in  no  way  extricate  herself.  In  short,  level-headed 
Frances  had  got  far  out  of  plumb,  and,  though  she  struggled 
desperately,  she  could  not  right  herself,  nor  could  any  one 
help  her.  I  fully  realized  that  the  small  amount  of  self- 
restraint  and  passivity  she  still  retained  would  give  way  to 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  207 

disastrous  activity  when  the  time  should  come  for  her  to 
part  with  George  and  lose  him  forever.  But  I  could  see  no 
way  to  save  her  unless  I  could  induce  George  to  leave  Eng- 
land at  once,  for  good  and  all. 

At  times  the  fates  seem  to  fly  to  a  man's  help,  and  in  this 
instance  they  came  to  me  most  graciously  that  same  day  in 
Whitehall,  in  the  person  of  my  friend  the  Count  de  Gram- 
mont. 

Soon  after  leaving  Frances  in  the  maids'  apartments,  I 
met  that  most  interesting  gentleman  roue,  his  Grace  de 
Grammont,  coming  from  the  king's  closet.  As  already 
stated,  he  had  been  banished  from  the  French  court  by 
Louis  XIV  because  of  a  too  great  friendliness  for  one  of  the 
king's  sweethearts,  and  was  living  in  exile  in  London  till 
Louis  should  forgive  his  interference.  The  French  king 
really  liked  De  Grammont  and  trusted  him  when  his 
Majesty's  lady-loves  were  not  concerned,  so  the  count  had 
been  sent  to  England  in  honorable  exile,  and  was  employed 
in  certain  cases  as  a  spy  and  in  others  as  a  means  of  secret 
communication  between  the  French  king  and  persons  con- 
nected with  the  court  of  Charles  II. 

When  De  Grammont  saw  me,  he  came  forward,  holding 
out  both  hands  in  his  effusive  French  manner,  apparently 
overjoyed  at  finding  a  long-lost  brother. 

"Come  with  me,  my  dear  baron,"  he  cried,  bonding  so 
close  to  me  that  I  feared  he  was  going  to  kiss  me.  "Come 
with  me  !  You  are  the  very  man  of  all  the  world  I  want,  I 
need,  I  must  have  !" 

"You  have  me,  my  dear  count,"  said  I,  "but  I  cannot  go 
with  you.  I  am  engaged  elsewhere." 

"No,  no,  let  me  whisper  !"  He  brought  his  lips  close  to 
my  ear  and  continued  almost  inaudibly :  "You  may  please 
me.  You  may  help  a  friend.  You  may  oblige  —  a  king." 

The  last,  of  course,  was  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  inducement 


208          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

according  to  the  count's  way  of  thinking,  and  he  supposed 
the  mere  suggestion  would  vanquish  me.  Still  I  pleaded 
my  engagement.  He  insisted,  however,  repeating  in  my 
ear:  — 

"Oblige  a  king!  A  real  king!  Not  a  flimsy  fool  of 
bourgeois,  who  makes  of  himself  the  laughing-stock  of  his 
people,  but  a  real  king.  I  cannot  name  him  now,  but  you 
must  know." 

We  were  in  a  narrow  passage  leading  to  the  Stone  Gallery 
in  Whitehall.  He  looked  about  him  a  moment,  then  taking 
me  by  the  arm,  led  me  to  the  Stone  Gallery  and  thence  to  the 
garden.  I  wanted  to  stop,  but  he  kept  his  grasp  on  my 
arm,  repeating  now  and  then  the  word  " Come"  in  whispers, 
till  we  reached  a  lonely  spot  in  St.  James  Park.  There  he 
halted,  and  though  there  was  not  a  living  creature  in  sight, 
he  brought  his  lips  to  my  ear  and  breathed  the  name, 
"'Sieur  George  Hamilton." 

I  tried  not  to  show  that  I  was  startled,  but  the  quick- 
witted, sharp-eyed  Frenchman  read  me  as  though  I  were  an 
open  book,  and  grasping  my  hand,  cried  out :  — 

"Ah,  I  knew  you  could  tell  me.  It  is  to  rejoice  !  I  knew 
it!" 

"Tell  you  what,  count  ? "  I  asked. 

"Tell  me  where  your  friend  and  mine  is,  or  if  you  will  not 
tell  me,  take  to  him  a  letter.  I  have  been  trying  to  find 
him  this  fortnight." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  where  he  is,  my  dear  count  — 

"Of  course  not !     I  do  not  ask,"  he  interrupted. 

" —  But  I  may  be  able  to  forward  your  letter  to  him.  I 
heard  only  the  other  day  that  he  was  in  France." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  he  is  in  France  !  Not  in  England  at 
all !  Good,  good  !  I  see  you  are  to  be  trusted.  But  I 
must  have  your  word  of  honor  that  the  letter  will  be  deliv- 
ered." 


AT  THE  MAID'S   GARTER  209 

"I  shall  send  it  by  none  but  a  trusted  messenger/'  I  an- 
swered, "and  shall  return  it  to  you  unopened  unless  I  am 
convinced  beyond  a  doubt  that  it  will  reach  our  friend." 

"Good,  good!     Come  to  my  hotel.     I  will  trust  you." 

We  went  to  De  Grammont's  house,  and  after  taking  great 
precautions  against  discovery,  he  gave  me  a  small  wooden 
box  wound  with  yards  of  tape  and  sealed  with  quantities 
of  wax.  I  put  the  box  in  my  pocket,  saying :  — 

"I  accept  the  trust  on  my  honor,  dear  count,  and  though 
the  package  bears  no  name  nor  address,  I  shall  deliver  it 
to  the  person  for  whom  it  is  intended." 

De  Grammont  said  he  knew  nothing  of  the  contents  of 
the  box  except  that  it  contained  a  message  for  a  friend,  and 
I  believed  him. 

When  I  left  his  house  he  came  to  the  door  with  me,  mur- 
muring :  "My  gratitude  !  My  gratitude  !  Also  the  grati- 
tude of  my  king,  which  I  hope  may  prove  of  far  greater 
value  to  your  friend  than  my  poor  offering  of  words." 

I  lost  no  time  in  seeking  George,  except  to  make  sure  that 
I  was  not  followed.  I  trusted  De  Grammont  and  felt  sure 
that  the  box  he  had  given  me  contained  a  personal  communi- 
cation from  no  less  a  person  than  Louis  XIV  of  France,  but  I 
wanted  to  take  no  risk  of  betraying  Hamilton  by  leading 
De  Grammont  or  any  one  else  to  his  hiding-place. 

Since  Frances's  providential  escape,  the  king  had  sus- 
pected the  right  persons  of  her  rescue.  At  least  he  suspected 
Hamilton,  and  was  seeking  him  more  diligently  than  ever 
before.  His  Majesty  had  not  shown  me  any  mark  of  dis- 
favor, but  I  feared  he  suspected  me,  and  was  sure  he  was  not 
convinced  that  Frances's  alibi  had  been  proved  by  unsub- 
orned  testimony.  If  he  was  sure  that  she  was  the  one  who 
had  been  kidnapped,  his  suspicious  nature  would  connect 
George  with  the  rescue,  and  would  lead  him  to  conclude  that 
Hamilton  must  be  in  England, 


210    THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

A  maid  of  Lady  Castlemain's  told  Rochester,  who  in  turn 
told  me,  that  the  king  had  again  set  his  men  to  work  search- 
ing for  Hamilton.  That  being  the  case,  George  was  in 
danger,  and  should  he  be  found  by  the  king's  secret  agents, 
who,  I  understood,  were  prowling  all  over  England  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  a  reward,  his  life  would  not  be  worth  a 
week's  purchase. 

George  knew  the  risk  he  ran  by  remaining  in  England, 
but  it  was  a  part  of  his  reckless  courage  to  take  delight  in  it. 
Later  on  this  recklessness  of  disposition  induced  him  to  take 
a  far  greater  risk.  But  of  that  in  its  turn. 

After  supper,  I  found  Hamilton  in  his  bedroom,  which  was 
connected  by  a  hidden  stairway  with  the  room  of  the  sink- 
ing floor.  He  wore  his  Quaker's  disguise,  and  on  the  table 
beside  him  were  the  Bible  and  a  few  theological  works  dear 
to  the  hearts  of  his  sect.  I  gave  him  the  box,  telling  him  its 
history.  The  letter  was  brief  and  was  written  in  cipher. 

George  translated  it  thus :  — 

"MASTER  GEORGE  HAMILTON: 

"Monsieur  le  Grand  wishes  you  to  pay  him  a  visit  imme- 
diately. 

"DE  CATANET." 

"You  probably  know  Monsieur  le  Grand  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "and  I  shall  visit  him  without  de- 
lay." 

"In  Paris?"  I  asked,  not  quite  sure  that  Monsieur  le 
Grand  was  King  Louis  of  France,  and  not  desiring  to  know 
certainly. 

"In  Paris,"  he  answered,  giving  me  to  understand  by  his 
manner  that  he  must  tell  me  nothing  more  definite  of  Le 
Grand's  identity. 

"Don't  tell  me  what  you  know  of  the  business  this  letter 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  211 

refers  to,  but  tell  me  whether  you  know,"  I  said,  hoping 
that  George  might  at  least  tell  me  it  meant  good  fortune 
for  him. 

"I  cannot  even  conjecture  the  business  upon  which  I  am 
wanted,"  he  said,  "but  I  hope  that  it  may  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  be  of  service  to  the  writer." 

Thus  I  was  relieved  of  the  disagreeable  task  of  trying  to 
induce  George  to  leave  England,  and  was  very  thankful  to 
escape  it. 

After  a  long  silence,  during  which  he  read  the  one-line 
letter  many  times,  he  asked  :  — 

"Are  you  willing  to  bring  Frances  to  me  early  to-morrow 
morning,  if  she  will  come  ?  " 

"Doubtless  I  can,"  I  answered.  "Her  willingness  to  come 
has  been  shown  all  too  plainly  of  late ;  but  ought  I  bring 
her?" 

"Yes.  It  will  be  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  see  her  unless 
good  fortune  lies  in  this  letter,  and  for  that  I  hardly  dare 
hope.  You  know  that  when  a  man's  luck  has  been  against 
him  for  a  long  time,  it  kills  the  very  roots  of  hope  and  brings 
him  almost  to  doubt  certainty.  Soon  after  I  have  seen  my 
friend,  Le  Grand,  I  shall  write  to  you  in  cipher,  of  which  I 
shall  leave  you  the  key.  If  I  see  a  prospect  of  fortune 
worthy  of  Frances,  I  shall  ask  her  to  wait  a  time  for  me, 
but  if  my  ill  fortune  pursues  me,  I  shall  never  again  be  heard 
from  by  any  one  in  England.  Are  you  satisfied  with  the 
conditions  ?  " 

I  gave  him  my  hand  for  answer,  and  told  him  I  would 
bring  Frances  to  him  early  the  following  morning. 

I  hastened  back  to  Whitehall,  and  coming  upon  Frances 
unengaged,  asked  her  to  go  to  her  parlor  with  me.  When 
she  had  closed  the  door,  she  turned  to  me,  asking :  — 

"What  is  it,  Baron  Ned?  Tell  me  quickly.  I  know 
there  is  something  wrong  with  George." 


212  THE  TOUCHSTONE   OF   FORTUNE 

"Will  you  go  with  me  early  to-morrow  morning  to  see 
Betty  —  very  early  ?  "  I  asked. 

Her  eyes  opened  in  wonder,  and  she  answered,  somewhat 
amused:  "You  have  been  acting  as  my  guardian  for  a 
long  time,  cousin  Ned,  and  now  I  think  I  owe  it  to  you  to 
return  the  favor.  You  should  not  see  so  much  of  Betty.  I 
know  you  mean  no  wrong  to  her,  but  you  will  cause  her 
great  suffering  if  you  continue  to  see  her,  for  you  must 
know  that  already  the  girl  is  almost  mad  with  love  of  you. 
Yet  you  cannot  marry  her." 

"Nor  can  you  marry  some  one  else,"  I  retorted,  almost 
angrily,  for  a  man  dislikes  to  be  prodded  by  a  painful 
truth. 

"Ah,  well,  I  suppose  we  are  a  pair  of  fools,"  she  said. 

"You're  right,  Frances,"  I  answered  philosophically, 
"and  the  only  consolation  we  can  find  lies  in  the  fact  that 
we  know  it." 

"Most  fools  lack  that  flattering  unction,"  returned 
Frances,  musingly. 

"Perhaps  you  will  take  more  interest  in  this  matter 
when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  not  Betty  I  propose  to  see,"  I 
answered.  "I  am  deliberately  offering  to  take  you  to  see 
some  one  else  who  is  about  to  leave  England." 

She  stood  on  tiptoe  and  kissed  my  lips  for  answer,  then 
sank  into  a  chair,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands  to  hide 
the  sudden  tears. 

I  went  to  the  window  and  waited  till  she  was  calm.  I 
longed  to  comfort  her  by  telling  of  the  faint  prospect  of 
good  fortune  that  lay  in  Le  Grand's  letter,  but  I  hesitated 
raising  a  hope  which  might  never  be  realized. 

At  the  end  of  five  minutes  I  went  to  her  and  said :  "Let 
me  ask  the  duchess  to  excuse  you  for  to-night,  and  in  the 
morning  I'll  meet  you  on  Bowling  Green  stairs,  at,  say, 
seven  o'clock." 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  213 

"I'll  be  there,"  she  answered,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

The  next  morning  we  took  boat,  and  the  tide  running 
out,  made  good  speed  to  the  Bridge,  hastened  to  the  Old 
Swan,  and  found  George  in  his  printing  shop  awaiting  us. 
I  remained  in  the  old  tapestried  room,  leaving  Frances  and 
George  to  say  their  farewells.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  he  called  me  in.  He  had  donned  his  Quaker  dis- 
guise, and  on  the  floor  near  him  was  a  small  bundle  of 
linen.  Frances  was  weeping,  and  George's  voice  was  choked 
with  emotion. 

"Well,  at  last,  Baron  Ned,  you  are  to  be  rid  of  me,"  he 
said,  glancing  toward  the  bundle  at  his  feet. 

"What  are  your  plans  of  escape  ?"   I  asked. 

"I  shall  work  my  way  down  to  Sheerness,  where  I  hope 
to  find  a  boat  for  The  Hague  or  the  French  coast.  Lilly, 
who  seems  to  know  everything,  past,  present  and  future, 
came  last  night  to  tell  me  that  the  king  has  fifty  men  seek- 
ing me  in  various  parts  of  England,  especially  the  sea- 
ports, and  has  offered  a  reward  of  two  hundred  pounds  for 
me,  dead  or  alive,  preferably  dead,  I  suppose.  If  I  go 
direct  to  Sheerness  and  try  to  take  a  boat,  I  am  sure  to  be 
examined,  and  I'm  not  prepared  for  the  ordeal.  So  I  in- 
tend to  preach  my  way  down  the  river  and  induce  the  king's 
officers  to  send  me  abroad  by  force." 

"How  are  you  off  for  money,  George?"   I  asked. 

"I  borrowed  ten  guineas  from  Lilly,"  he  answered. 

"I  thought  you  might  be  in  need  of  money,  so  I  brought 
fifty  guineas  from  the  strong  box  under  my  bed,"  I  said, 
offering  him  the  little  bag  of  gold. 

He  hesitated,  saying:  "If  I  take  the  money,  you  may 
never  again  see  a  farthing  of  it." 

"In  that  case,  I'll  take  my  pay  in  abusing  you,"  I  replied. 

"Do  you  believe  he  would,  Frances?"  asked  George, 
turning  to  my  cousin.  Then  continuing  thoughtfully: 


214          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"It  is  strange  that  I  should  have  found  such  a  friend  at 
the  bottom  of  a  quarrel,  all  because  I  allowed  him  to  abuse 
me.  Truly  forbearance  is  a  profitable  virtue.  The  '  other 
cheek'  is  the  better  of  the  two." 

Upon  my  insistence,  he  accepted  the  gold  and  gave  me 
the  ten  guineas  he  had  borrowed  from  Lilly,  asking  me  to 
return  them. 

Frances  was  making  an  entire  failure  of  her  effort  to 
hold  herself  in  check,  and  George  was  having  difficulty  in 
restraining  himself,  so,  to  bring  the  interview  to  an  end,  he 
gave  me  his  hand,  saying :  — 

"Thank  you,  Ned,  and  good-by.  I  wish  I  could  hope 
ever  to  see  you  again,  but  if  Le  Grand  fails  me,  I  shall  go 
to  the  new  world  and  lose  myself  in  the  Canadian  woods." 

"No,  no  !"   cried  Frances,  imploringly. 

"I  hope  not,"  began  George,  but  he  could  not  finish,  so 
he  took  Frances  in  his  arms  for  a  moment,  and  when  he 
released  her,  thrust  us  both  out  the  door,  saying:  "Please 
leave  me  at  once.  If  you  do  not,  I  fear  I  shall  never  let 
her  go.  Take  care  of  her,  Ned.  Good-by !" 

The  door  closed  on  us,  and  when  Frances  had  put  on 
her  vizard,  she  followed  me  upstairs  to  see  Betty. 

I  was  not  admitted  to  Betty's  room,  so  I  went  back  to 
the  printing  shop  for  a  moment,  and  George  gave  me  the 
key  to  the  cipher,  in  which  we  were  to  write  to  each  other. 
His  letters  were  to  be  sent  under  cover  to  Lilly,  and  mine 
were  to  go  to  an  address  in  Paris  which  George  would  send 
to  me. 

Long  afterwards  George  told  me  of  his  adventures  in 
making  his  escape,  but  I  shall  give  them  now  in  the  order 
of  their  happening  rather  than  in  the  order  of  time  in  which 
I  learned  them. 

Leaving  the  Old  Swan  within  ten  minutes  after  I  had 
said  good-by  to  him,  George  crossed  London  Bridge, 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  215 

attired  in  his  Quaker  disguise,  and  made  his  way  to  Dept- 
ford,  where  he  preached  in  the  streets.  From  Deptford 
he  followed  the  river  by  easy  stages  to  Sheerness,  where 
he  lodged  nearly  a  week,  awaiting  a  boat  that  would 
answer  his  purpose.  Had  he  attempted  to  board  a  vessel, 
he  would  have  been  seized  and  examined;  therefore  his 
plan  was  to  grow  violent  in  his  preaching,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, provoke  the  authorities  to  place  him  on  board  one  of 
the  outgoing  crafts;  that  being  a  favorite  method  of  the 
king's  men  in  getting  rid  of  the  too  blatant  fanatics  in 
Sheerness. 

The  Dutch  sea  captains  were  fanatics  almost  to  a  man, 
and  the  exiled  exhorters  found  them  always  willing  to 
help  their  persecuted  brethren  of  the  faith. 

And  so  it  happened  with  George  in  Sheerness.  He  was 
on  the  dock  exhorting  vehemently  against  the  evils  of  the 
time,  laying  great  stress  on  the  wickedness  of  the  king 
and  denouncing  the  vileness  of  the  court.  Two  of  the 
king's  officers  tried  to  silence  him,  but  failing,  ordered  him 
to  leave  England  by  a  certain  Dutch  boat  then  waiting 
in  the  harbor  with  its  pennant  up.  He  protested  and 
struggled,  but  at  last  was  forced  aboard,  raving  against 
those  godless  Balaamites,  the  clergy  of  the  Established 
Church,  who,  with  the  devil,  he  declared,  were  behind  his 
persecution. 

So  well  did  George  play  his  part  that  a  collection  was 
taken  up  among  the  passengers  of  the  Dutch  boat  to  help 
the  good  man  so  vilely  put  upon.  There  was  a  sweet  bit 
of  irony  in  the  fact,  learned  afterwards,  that  the  officers 
who  forced  George  aboard  the  Dutch  ship  were  at  Sheer- 
ness  for  the  purpose  of  winning  the  two  hundred  pounds 
reward  offered  for  his  capture. 

The  goodness  of  God  occasionally  takes  a  whimsical 
form. 


216          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

A  month  later  I  received  a  letter  from  George,  written 
in  cipher,  which  I  here  give  translated :  — 

"DEAR  FRIEND: 

"  I  reached  Paris  three  weeks  ago  and  was  received  by 
Monsieur  Le  G.  most  graciously.  Although  I  cannot  give 
definite  news,  I  hope  for  great  improvement  in  my  fortune 
soon,  and  perhaps  may  write  you  more  fully  thereof  before 
the  week  is  spent. 

"Good  fortune  has  but  one  meaning  for  me,  of  which 
you  already  know.  I  beg  you  to  say  to  one  that  a  letter 
from  her  hand  would  give  me  greater  joy  than  she  can 
know,  and  that  I  would  now  send  one  to  her  if  I  felt  safe 
in  so  doing.  Please  send  all  letters  in  cipher,  addressed: 
'Monsieur  le  Blanc,  in  care  of  'Sieur  de  Catanet,  at  the 
sign  of  the  Double  Arrow  on  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  count- 
ing nine  doors  from  the  street  corner  nearest  the  Bastile/ 

"Your  friend, 
"LE  BLANC." 

When  George  wrote  that  he  hoped  for  good  fortune,  I 
knew  he  had  sound  reason  to  expect  it,  for  he  was  one 
who  never  permitted  a  mere  possibility  to  take  the  form 
of  hope,  nor  hope,  however  assuring,  to  take  the  aspect  of 
certainty.  Knowing  this  to  be  true,  I  found  great  joy  in 
the  letter,  and  when  I  told  Frances,  she  did  not  pause  even 
to  give  me  one  smile  of  thanks,  but  broke  into  a  flood  of 
tears  and  seemed  to  take  great  happiness  in  her  tribulation. 

I  told  Frances  that  we  should  answer  the  letter  at  once, 
and  suggested  that  she  have  hers  ready  in  my  hands  the 
following  day,  if  she  wished  to  write  one.  I  also  sug- 
gested that  we  meet  in  Bettina's  parlor,  where  Frances's 
letter  could  be  rewritten  in  cipher.  We  trusted  Bettina  as 
we  trusted  ourselves,  and  when  we  told  her  the  good  news, 
she  clapped  her  hands  for  joy,  laughing,  yet  ready  to  weep, 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  217 

and  was  as  happy  as  even  she  could  be,  which  was  very 
happy  indeed. 

After  we  had  talked,  laughed,  and  cried  a  reasonable  time 
in  Betty's  parlor,  Frances  handed  me  her  letter,  which  was  a 
bulky  document,  well  taped  and  waxed. 

"It  will  require  a  week  for  me  to  translate  this,"  I  re- 
marked, weighing  the  letter  in  my  hand. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  translating  it?"  she  asked  in 
surprise. 

"I  must  write  it  out  in  cipher.  Hamilton  directed  that 
all  letters  should  be  sent  in  that  form,"  I  answered,  amused 
at  her  alarm. 

"No,  no  !"  she  cried,  snatching  the  letter  from  me,  press- 
ing it  to  her  breast  and  blushing  to  her  ears.  "You  shall 
not  see  my  letter  ! " 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Because,"  she  answered. 

"That  is  no  reason,"  I  replied.  "Of  course  you  have 
written  nothing  that  you  would  not  want  me  or  your  father 
to  see?" 

"  Well,  yes,  I  have,"  she  returned  emphatically.  "  A  great 
deal.  Would  you,  Betty,  want  any  one  to  see  such  a  letter 
written  by  yourself  ?  " 

"I  suppose  I  could  write  a  letter  which  I  should  want  but 
one  person  in  all  the  world  to  see,"  returned  Betty,  arching 
her  eyebrows. 

"To  whom  would  it  be  directed,  Betty?"  I  asked,  to 
tease  her. 

A  faint  expression  of  reproach  came  to  her  eyes,  but  after 
a  moment  of  pretty  hesitancy,  she  answered  boldly :  — 

"Since  you  are  so  unwise  as  to  ask,  I'll  answer  in  like 
folly.  The  letter  could  be  directed  to  but  one  person  in  the 
world  —  you." 

I  had  received  more  than  I  had  expected,  and  though  I 


2i8          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE" 

longed  to  make  a  suitable  return,  I  dared  not  for  the  sake 
of  my  vows,  so  we  all  remained  silent,  and  somewhat  em- 
barrassed, for  a  minute  or  two. 

Turning  to  Frances,  I  said  :  "If  you  don't  want  me  to  read 
your  letter,  I'll  give  you  the  key,  and  you  may  make  it  into 
cipher."  But  after  examining  the  key,  she  declared  that 
she  could  never  learn  to  use  it,  and  I  suggested  that  she 
write  a  shorter  letter  in  terms  fit  for  a  modest  man  to  read. 

The  next  day  she  handed  me  a  shorter  letter,  saying  that 
she  had  cut  and  pruned  it  till  there  was  nothing  left  worth 
sending,  but  I  assured  her  that  George  would  think  other- 
wise. 

When  I  read  the  letter,  my  eyes  were  opened  to  the  fact 
that  there  was  more  fire  in  Frances's  heart  than  I  had  sup- 
posed any  woman  capable  of  holding  in  subjection.  But 
that  is  a  mistake  often  made  by  men. 

This  was  my  cousin's  "cut  and  pruned"  letter :  — 
"DEAR  ONE: 

"Baron  Ned  says  my  letter  must  be  short,  so  I  smother 
what  remnant  of  modesty  I  have,  covering  nothing  with  the 
veil  of  circumlocution,  but  telling  you  plainly  what  I  know 
you  want  to  hear.  I  love  only  you  and  am  true  to  you  in 
every  thought,  word,  and  deed.  I  long  for  you,  yearn  for 
you,  pray  for  you,  and  be  your  fortune  good  or  ill,  I  would 
share  it  and  give  you  a  part  of  the  bliss  of  life  which  you 
would  give  to  me. 

"So  I  pray  you,  do  not  desert  me  in  case  your  present 
hope  of  good  fortune  fails  you,  but  let  me  know  at  any  time, 
and  I  will  go  to  you,  and  will  go  with  you  wherever  you 
will  take  me. 

"You  will  say,  I  fear,  that  none  but  a  crazy  woman  would 
write  such  a  letter  as  this,  but  if  that  be  true,  the  world 
doubtless  is  and  always  has  been  populated  by  maniacs, 
and  I  pray  God  always  will  be.  I  pray  you,  remember,  in 


AT  THE   MAID'S   GARTER  219 

judging  me,  that  you  are  you  and  that  I  am  but  a  woman 
by  whom  the  good  or  evil  of  life  is  reckoned  in  the  measure 
of  her  love ;  her  joy  or  misery  being  only  a  matter  of  down 
weight  or  light  weight  more  in  the  love  she  gives  than  in  that 
which  she  receives.  Remember,  also,  that  in  this  letter  I 
must  condense  when  I  might  easily  be  prolix,  and  that  after 
all  is  written,  probably  I  shall  have  left  unsaid  the  very 
thing  I  most  wished  to  say.  But  these  three  words  will  tell 
it  all  and  bear  repeating :  I  love  you.  u^>  „ 

And  this  from  my  sensible  cousin  !  What  would  it  be  if 
her  heart  were  not  balanced  by  a  wise  head  ? 

Our  letters  being  written,  I  became  alarmed  about  post- 
ing them  in  London,  not  knowing  when  a  messenger  would 
start  for  France,  nor  who  he  would  be.  The  next  day 
Frances  and  I  talked  it  over,  and  she  suggested  that  as 
the  king  and  most  of  the  court  were  about  to  visit  Bath 
for  a  season,  and  as  neither  she  nor  I  cared  to  go,  we  should 
take  the  letters  to  Dover,  cross  to  Calais,  and  post  them  in 
France. 

I  sprang  at  the  idea,  but  immediately  sprang  back,  saying  : 
"But  it  is  not  entirely  proper  for  us  to  travel  to  Calais 
together,  even  though  you  are  my  sister-cousin." 

"We  may  take  father,"  she  suggested.  "Sarah  wants  to 
visit  Lady  St.  Albans,  and  she  can  go  if  we  take  father  with 
us.  And,  Baron  Ned ;  I  have  another  suggestion  to  offer. 
Let  us  take  Bettina." 

I  sprang  at  that  proposal  and  did  not  spring  back.  So  we 
went  first  to  my  uncle,  who  said  he  would  go  with  us,  and 
then  we  went  to  see  Bettina.  She  had  recovered  from  her 
sprains  and  bruises,  although  she  was  still  pale  and  not  quite 
strong. 

When  Frances  asked  her  to  go  with  us,  she  answered,  "Ay, 
gladly,  if  father  consents." 


220          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Pickering,  who  was  sitting  with  us  at  the  time  in  Bettina's 
cozy  parlor,  turned  to  me,  laughing,  and  said  :  — 

"You  would  suppose,  from  Betty's  remark,  that  I  am 
master  here,  but  the  truth  is  my  soul  is  not  my  own,  and 
now  her  modest  request  for  permission  is  made  for  effect 
on  the  company." 

Betty  ran  to  her  father,  sat  on  his  knee,  twined  her  arm 
about  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  as  a  protest  against  the  un 
just  insinuation. 

"You  see  how  she  does  it,"  said  Pickering.  "No  hammer 
and  tongs  for  Betty ;  just  oil  and  honey." 

"And  lots  and  lots  of  love,  father,"  interrupted  Betty. 

Well,  our  journey  was  soon  arranged  on  a  grand  scale. 
Pickering  lent  us  his  new  coach,  just  home  from  the  makers 
in  Cow  Street.  It  was  cushioned  and  curtained  and  had 
springs  in  place  of  thorough-braces.  It  also  had  glass  in  the 
windows  and  doors ;  a  luxury  then  little  known  in  England 
even  among  the  nobles.  There  was  a  prejudice  against  its 
use  in  coach  windows  because  of  the  fact  that  two  or  three 
old  ladies  had  cut  their  faces  in  trying  to  thrust  their  heads 
through  it. 

The  new  coach  was  a  wonderful  vehicle,  and  Frances  and 
I,  as  well  as  Betty,  were  very  proud  of  our  grandeur.  Pick- 
ering sent  along  with  the  coach  and  horses  two  lusty  fellows 
as  drivers,  and  gave  us  a  hamper  almost  large  enough  to  feed 
a  company  of  soldiers.  I  was  to  pay  all  expenses  on  the 
road. 

Almost  at  the  last  hour  Sir  Richard  concluded  not  to  go, 
but  insisted  that  Frances,  Bettina,  and  I  take  the  journey  by 
ourselves.  As  Pickering  offered  no  objection,  Frances 
shrugged  her  shoulders  in  assent,  I  shrugged  mine,  and  Betty 
laughed,  whereby  we  all,  in  our  own  way,  agreed  to  the  new 
arrangement,  and  preparations  went  forward  rapidly. 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  221 

By  the  time  we  were  ready  to  start,  the  king,  the  duke,  the 
duchess,  and  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  court  circle 
had  gone  to  Bath,  thus  giving  us  an  opportunity  to  make  our 
journey  without  the  knowledge  of  any  one  in  Whitehall; 
a  consideration  of  vast  importance  to  us  under  the  circum- 
stances. Some  of  our  grand  friends  at  court  might  have 
laughed  at  our  taking  the  journey  with  an  innkeeper's 
daughter,  in  an  innkeeper's  coach,  but  Frances  and  I 
laughed  because  we  were  happy. 

There  are  distinct  periods  of  good  and  bad  luck  in  every 
man's  life,  which  may  be  felt  in  advance  by  one  sensitive 
to  occult  influences,  if  one  will  but  keep  good  watch  on  one's 
intuitions  and  leave  them  untrammelled  by  will  or  reason. 
At  this  time  "I  felt  it  in  my  bones,"  as  Betty  would  have 
said,  that  the  day  of  our  good  luck  was  at  hand. 

All  conditions  seemed  to  combine  to  our  pleasure  when,  on 
a  certain  bright  spring  morning,  Betty,  Frances,  and  I  went 
down  to  the  courtyard  of  the  Old  Swan,  where  we  found  the 
coach,  the  horses,  and  even  the  drivers  all  glittering  in  the 
sunshine. 

There  was  ample  room  in  the  back  seat  of  the  coach  for 
the  three  of  us,  so  Betty  took  one  corner,  Frances  made  her- 
self comfortable  in  another,  and  I  took  what  was  left,  the 
pleasant  place  between  them. 

After  Betty  had  kissed  her  father  at  least  a  dozen  times, 
and  had  shed  a  few  tears  just  to  make  her  happiness  com- 
plete, the  driver  cracked  his  whip  and  away  we  went,  out 
through  the  courtyard  gate,  down  Gracious  Hill  and  across 
London  Bridge  before  a  sleepy  man  could  have  winked  his 
eyes. 

At  first  we  thought  we  were  in  haste,  but  when  we  got  out 
of  Southwark  and  into  the  country,  the  dark  green  grass,  the 
flowering  hedges,  the  whispering  leaves  of  the  half-fledged 
trees,  the  violets  by  the  roadside,  and  the  smiling  sun  in  the 


222          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

blue  above,  all  invited  us  to  linger.  So  we  told  the  driver 
to  slow  his  pace,  and  we  lowered  every  window  in  the  coach, 
there  being  no  one  in  the  country  whose  wonder  and  envy 
we  cared  to  arouse  by  a  display  of  our  glass. 

There  was  not  room  in  Betty's  little  heart  for  all  the  great 
flood  of  happiness  that  had  poured  into  it,  so  presently,  to 
give  it  vent,  she  began  to  sing  the  little  French  lullaby  we 
had  so  often  heard,  whereupon  Frances  and  I  ceased  listen- 
ing to  the  birds,  and  I  was  more  thoroughly  convinced  than 
ever  before  that  there  were  at  least  distinct  periods  of  good 
fortune  in  every  man's  life. 

Before  reaching  Gravesend,  we  halted  at  a  grassy  spot 
near  the  river  bank,  where  we  ate  our  dinner.  When  the 
horses  had  rested,  we  set  off  for  Rochester,  in  which  place 
we  expected  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Maid's  Garter,  a 
famous  old  inn  kept  by  a  friend  of  Pickerings. 

I  had  noticed  a  twinkle  in  Pickering's  eyes  when  he 
directed  us  to  go  to  this  tavern,  but  did  not  understand 
the  cause  of  his  merriment  until  I  learned  that  by  a  curious 
old  custom,  a  maid  seeking  entrance  for  the  first  time  must 
contribute  one  of  her  garters  before  being  admitted.  The 
worst  feature  of  the  usage  was  that  the  garter  must  be 
taken  off  at  the  door,  and  then  and  there  presented  to  the 
porter,  who  received  it  on  the  point  of  his  official  staff. 

After  entering  Rochester,  we  went  to  the  Maid's  Garter 
and  at  once  drove  into  the  courtyard,  as  the  custom  is 
with  travellers  intending  to  remain  all  night. 

When  we  left  the  coach  and  started  to  climb  the  steps 
to  the  great  door,  we  found  the  landlord  and  his  retinue 
waiting  to  receive  us.  Frances  was  in  the  lead,  and  when 
we  reached  the  broad,  flat  stone  in  front  of  the  door,  the 
head  porter  stepped  before  her,  bowed,  and  asked  humbly :  — 

"Is  my  lady  maid  or  madam ?" 

Frances  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  he  repeated  his  question. 


AT  THE  MAID'S   GARTER  223 

"What  is  that  to  you,  fellow?"   asked  Frances. 

"It  is  this,  my  lady,"  returned  the  porter.  "If  my  lady 
be  a  maid,  she  must  pay  me  one  of  her  garters  as  her  ad- 
mission fee  to  this  inn.  If  she  be  madam,  she  enters  free. 
It  is  a  privilege  conferred  on  the  Maid's  Garter  by  good  St. 
Augustine  when  he  was  Bishop  of  Canterbury,  so  long  ago 
that  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary." 

"What  nonsense  is  this?"  asked  Frances,  turning  to 
me,  and  Bettina  asked  the  same  question  with  her  eyes. 
I  explained  the  matter,  and  Frances,  turning  to  the  porter, 
said :  — 

"I'll  buy  you  off  with  a  jacobus  or  a  guinea." 

"Not  a  hundred  guineas  would  buy  me  off,  my  lady," 
answered  the  porter,  bowing,  "though  I  might  say  that  a 
shilling  usually  goes  with  the  garter." 

"Well,  I'll  send  you  both  the  shilling  and  the  garter 
from  my  room,"  said  Frances,  moving  toward  the  inn  door. 

"The  garter  must  be  paid  here,  my  lady.  The  shilling 
may  be  paid  at  any  time,"  returned  the  porter,  with  polite 
insistence. 

Frances  was  about  to  protest,  but  Betty,  more  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  eccentric  customs  of  inns,  modestly  lifted 
her  skirts,  untied  her  garter  and  offered  it  to  the  porter, 
telling  him  very  seriously :  — 

"I  am  a  maid." 

The  porter  thanked  her  gravely,  whereupon  Frances, 
turning  her  back  on  the  audience  in  the  doorway,  brought 
forth  her  garter,  gave  it  to  the  porter,  and  we  were 
admitted. 

Our  supper,  beds,  and  breakfast  were  all  so  good  that 
they  reconciled  Frances  and  Bettina  to  the  payment  of 
the  extraordinary  admission  fee,  and  when  we  left  the  next 
morning,  curiosity  prompted  them  to  pass  near  the  garter 
rack  in  the  tap-room,  where  garters  were  hanging  which 


224          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

had  been  taken  from  maids  whose  great  granddaughters 
had  become  great  grandmothers.  The  garters  that  had 
belonged  to  Frances  and  Bettina,  being  the  latest  contribu- 
tions, hung  at  the  bottom  of  the  rack,  neatly  dated  and 
labelled,  and,  as  I  left  the  room,  I  overheard  Bettina  whisper 
to  Frances :  — 

"I'm  glad  mine  was  of  silk." 

We  made  a  short  drive  to  Maidstone,  where  we  stopped 
over  night.  The  next  day  a  longer  journey  brought  us  to 
Canterbury,  where  we  spent  two  nights  and  a  day,  visit- 
ing the  cathedral  both  by  sunlight  and  moonlight;  the 
combination  of  moonlight  and  Bettina  being  very  trying 
to  me. 

From  Canterbury  we  drove  in  the  rain  to  Dover,  where 
we  lodged  at  that  good  inn,  the  Three  Anchors,  to  await  a 
fair  wind  for  Calais. 

During  the  next  three  days  the  wind  was  fair,  but  it 
was  blowing  half  a  gale,  and  therefore  the  passage  was  not 
to  be  attempted.  Though  I  was  enjoying  myself,  I  was 
anxious  to  post  our  letters,  as  mine  gave  a  full  account  of 
several  matters  at  court  concerning  which  I  knew  George 
ought  to  be  informed. 

Among  other  news,  I  told  him  that  King  Charles  had 
sent  a  messenger  into  France  carrying  a  personal  letter  to 
King  Louis,  asking  his  help  in  finding  the  man  Hamilton, 
who  had  threatened  Charles's  life.  I  also  suggested  in  my 
letter  that  the  king  of  France  was  trying  to  buy  the  city 
of  Dunkirk  from  King  Charles,  and  that  because  of  the 
friendly  negotiations  then  pending,  Louis  might  give  heed 
to  our  king's  request.  In  that  case,  it  might  be  well,  I 
thought,  for  Hamilton  to  leave  France  at  once. 

With  this  urgency  in  mind,  I  suggested  to  Frances  and 
Betty  that  I  cross  to  Calais  alone,  regardless  of  the  weather, 
leaving  them  at  Dover  till  my  return.  But  they  would 


AT  THE  MAID'S  GARTER  225 

not  be  left  behind,  so  we  all  set  sail  on  a  blustery  morning 
and  paid  for  our  temerity  with  a  day  of  suffering.  In 
Calais  we  posted  our  letters,  having  learned  that  a  messen- 
ger would  leave  that  same  day  for  Paris,  and  two  days  later 
we  returned  to  Dover 

Our  journey  home  was  made  in  the  rain,  Bettina  sleep- 
ing with  her  head  on  my  shoulder  a  great  part  of  the  way. 
And  I  enjoyed  the  ram  even  more  than  I  had  enjoyed  the 
sunshine. 

We  reached  London  nearly  a  week  before  the  king's 
return,  so  that  nothing  was  known  of  our  journey  at  court. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT" 

WHATEVER  faults  Whitehall  may  have  had  as  a 
place  of  residence,  dulness  was  not  among  them. 
There  were  balls,  games  with  high  stakes,  theatres, 
gossip,  scandals,  and  once  in  a  long  while  an  affair  of  state 
to  interest  us.  In  order  to  interest  the  court  thoroughly, 
an  affair  of  state  must  have  involved  the  getting  of  money 
for  the  privy  purse ;  that  is,  for  the  king's  personal  use,  for 
out  of  it  the  courtesans  were  fed  and  gambling  debts  were 
paid. 

The  time  of  our  Dover  journey  was  one  of  extreme 
depletion  in  the  privy  purse.  The  king  had  borrowed 
from  every  person  and  every  city  within  the  realm  who, 
by  threats  or  cajolery,  could  be  induced  to  part  with 
money.  But  now  he  had  reached  the  end  of  his  tether. 

When  matters  were  thus  in  extremis,  some  one,  probably 
Castlemain,  suggested  the  sale  of  England's  possessions  on 
the  continent,  chief  of  which  was  the  rich  city  of  Dun- 
kirk, situate  on  the  French  side  of  the  Straits  of  Dover. 
This  fortified  city,  within  a  few  leagues  of  Calais,  had 
cost  the  English  nation  heavily  in  blood  and  gold  to  gain, 
and  still  more  heavily  to  hold,  but  its  value  to  England 
commercially  and  politically  was  beyond  measure. 

Since  Queen  Mary  had  lost  Calais,  Dunkirk  was  the 
only  important  foothold  England  had  on  continental  soil; 
therefore  it  was  almost  as  dear  to  the  English  people  as 

226 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    227 

the  city  of  London  itself.  Because  of  its  importance,  it 
was  greatly  coveted  by  the  French  king,  who  shortly  before 
the  time  of  our  journey  to  Dover  had  made  overtures  to 
buy  it. 

Charles  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  King  Louis's  first  proposal 
to  buy  Dunkirk,  not  because  he  loved  the  city,  or  cared  a 
farthing  for  its  value  to  his  people,  but  because  he  feared 
the  storm  of  indignation  its  sale  would  raise.  The  Lord 
Chancellor  objected  to  the  sale  of  Dunkirk,  and  tried  to 
show  Charles  the  great  folly  of  entertaining  the  offer.  He 
was  the  only  wise,  honest  man  in  the  king's  council,  and, 
by  reason  of  his  wonderful  knowledge  of  mankind,  was 
called  "the  Chancellor  of  Human  Nature."  But  the  king 
needed  money,  so  after  a  time  he  listened  to  Berkeley, 
Crofts,  Castlemain,  and  others  of  like  character,  whose 
strongest  argument  consisted  in  accusing  the  king,  most 
offensively,  of  being  afraid  of  his  people. 

"Are  you  not  king?"  asked  Castlemain.  "Does  not 
Dunkirk  belong  to  you,  and  may  you  not  sell  that  which 
is  your  property?  Are  not  these  dogs,  the  people,  your 
slaves,  your  property  ?  Yet  you  stand  in  cowardly  fear  of 
a  rabble  which  quakes  if  you  but  crook  your  finger.  A 
like  fear  of  his  subjects  cost  your  father  his  head.  The 
people  will  crawl  before  you  if  you  kick  them,  but  let 
them  see  that  you  fear  them,  and  you  will  learn  that  there 
is  no  cruelty  like  that  of  the  good  people." 

De  Grammont,  the  French  exile,  called  attention  to  the 
French  king's  successful  tyranny,  declaring  that  his  master 
would  sell  Paris  if  he  chose.  De  Grammont  was  acting 
secretly  in  the  French  king's  interest. 

A  weak  man  easily  finds  logic  to  justify  the  course  he 
desires  to  take,  so  Charles  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  Clarendon, 
and,  listening  to  Castlemain,  announced  that  Dunkirk  was 
for  sale.  As  expected,  a  strong  protest  came  from  the 


228          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

people,  but  no  one  is  so  stubborn  as  a  fool  in  the  wrong, 
so  Charles  remained  firm  in  his  determination. 

Finding  that  protest  would  avail  nothing,  the  people  of 
London  offered  to  buy  Dunkirk,  and  began  to  bid  for  it 
against  the  French  king.  Louis,  knowing  that  London 
was  a  rich  city,  and  believing  that  its  people  would  run  up 
the  price  of  Dunkirk  to  an  exorbitant  figure,  took  counsel 
with  himself  —  his  only  adviser  —  and  determined  to  em- 
ploy other  means  than  gold  alone  to  obtain  the  coveted 
city. 

My  first  definite  knowledge  of  the  French  king's  new 
plan  to  buy  Dunkirk  at  his  own  price  came  in  a  letter  from 
Hamilton,  which  reached  me  at  Lilly's  house  two  or  three 
weeks  after  my  return  from  Dover.  Like  the  others,  it 
was  written  in  cipher,  but,  translated,  was  as  follows :  — 

"My  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

"Your  warning  letter  reached  me  nearly  a  week  ago, 
and  I  thank  you  for  your  watchfulness.  I  had  full  infor- 
mation of  King  Charles's  design  upon  my  life  from  no  less 
a  person  than  Monsieur  le  Grand  himself,  who  showed  me 
the  letter  asking  that  I  be  returned  to  England. 

"I  explained  to  Monsieur  le  Grand  that  the  English 
king  sought  my  life,  not  because  he  is  in  fear  of  me,  but 
because  he  thought  I  stood  between  him  and  a  lady  who 
despises  him.  While  Monsieur  le  Grand  was  much  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  English  king's  grievance,  his  contempt  for 
Charles,  his  regard  for  me,  which  seems  to  be  sincere,  and 
his  longing  to  possess  Dunkirk  all  induced  him  to  laugh  at 
the  request,  the  nature  of  which  he  had  imparted  to  no 
one  save  me. 

"My  account  of  the  lady  who  despised  King  Charles's 
love  gave  Monsieur  le  Grand  a  new  idea,  and  suggested  a 
method  of  purchasing  Dunkirk  which  he  hopes  will  save 
the  heavy  cost  of  bidding  against  the  citizens  of  London.  I 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    229 

had  no  hint  of  what  he  intended  till  one  day  he  took  me  to 
his  closet  and  began  to  question  me. 

"'Do  you  possess  the  love  of  the  lady  who  despises  King 
Charles  ? '  he  asked. 

"'I  do,  your  Majesty/  I  answered. 

" '  Do  you  know  you  possess  it  ? '  he  asked. 

"'As  well  as  a  man  who  is  not  a  king  may  know,'  I  re- 
turned. 

"'Tush,  tush!  Kings  are  no  more  certain  than  other 
men.' 

"'I  know  I  possess  this  woman's  love,'  I  said. 

"'Would  she  be  willing  to  make  a  great  sacrifice  to  help 
you?' 

"'Anything  that  I  should  ask,'  I  replied. 

"'Ah,  I  see,  I  see  !  Should  ask  ?  I  take  it  there  are  cer- 
tain sacrifices  you  would  not  ask,'  returned  the  king.  'We 
here  in  France  would  say  that  your  position  was  Quixotic. 
However,  your  King  Charles  is  a  weak  fool,  easily  imposed 
upon.  Is  the  lady  quick  and  resourceful  in  expedients,  calm 
and  thoughtful  in  emergencies,  and  silent  on  great  occasions  ? ' 

"To  all  of  which  I  answered,  'Yes.' 

" '  Surely  the  lady  is  not  La  Belle  Jennings  ? '  asked  the 
king. 

"'Yes,' I  replied. 

"'In  that  case  you  are  the  very  man  I  want,  and  your 
lady-love  can  help  me  buy  Dunkirk.  It  is  easy  to  lead  a 
fool  to  do  the  wrong  thing,  and  I'm  sure  La  Belle  Jennings 
will  find  a  way  to  gain  her  end  and  ours.  If,  through  her, 
you  induce  King  Charles  to  sell  Dunkirk  to  me  on  my  own 
terms,  I'll  make  you  its  governor  and  a  rich  man.  I'll 
put  you  in  a  position  to  marry  this  paragon,  Mam'selle 
Jennings,  if,  as  I  take  it,  lack  of  fortune  is  all  that  stands 
between  you.  I  do  not  mind  telling  you  now  that  De  Gram- 
mont  had  given  me  full  information  concerning  the  king's 


230          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

view  of  La  Belle  Jennings  and  your  relations  to  her  before  I 
wrote  my  first  letter,  inviting  you  to  visit  me.' 

"I  am  loath  to  undertake  so  mean  an  office  as  that  of  in- 
ducing King  Charles  to  sell  an  English  city,  but  I  cannot 
save  Dunkirk,  and  I  may  profit  by  helping  what  I  cannot 
prevent.  So  I  beg  you  broach  the  subject  to  Frances, 
cautioning  her  for  me  to  take  no  risk,  and  if  she  is  willing 
to  use  and  to  hoodwink  the  man  who  would  not  hesitate  to 
take  her  life,  let  me  know,  and  I  shall  write  to  you  again  with 
further  instructions. 

"With  gratitude, 

"Your  friend, 

"LE  BLANC." 

I  sought  Frances,  and  when  I  told  her  the  substance  of 
George's  letter,  she  was  almost  wild  with  joy. 

"Am  I  willing  to  try?"  she  exclaimed,  laughing  while 
tears  were  hanging  in  her  eyes.  "I  am  not  only  willing  to 
try,  but  am  determined  to  succeed.  Ay,  I'd  sell  England 
itself  in  the  same  cause.  Of  all  the  men  I  have  ever  known, 
this  king  of  ours  is  the  greatest  dupe.  Since  the  return  of 
the  court  to  Whitehall,  he  has  been  growing  more  impor- 
tunate every  day.  He  seems  to  have  lost  what  little  wits 
he  had,  and  does  and  says  the  silliest  things  one  can  imag- 
ine." 

"And  you  do  not  fear  attempting  to  lead  him  on  to  sell 
Dunkirk  ?  You  do  not  fear  going  too  near  the  precipice  ?  " 
I  asked,  wishing  to  weigh  her  self-confidence  more  by  the 
manner  of  her  reply  than  by  her  words. 

She  laughed  and  answered  :  "  There  is  no  precipice,  cousin 
Ned ;  nothing  to  fear  save  kidnapping,  and  I  am  always 
guarded  against  that  danger ;  nothing  to  do  of  which  I  need 
feel  ashamed,  save  the  acting  of  a  lie,  and  surely  one  may 
lie  to  the  father  of  lies  without  sin." 


"ALL   SUNSHINE   MAKES  THE  DESERT"     231 

"But  the  lie  may  be  recognized,"  I  suggested,  "if  one  be 
too  bold  about  it." 

"My  lie  will  go  little  beyond  a  smile  or  two.  The  king's 
vanity  will  do  the  rest.  He  will  make  himself  believe  that 
I  mean  more  than  I  say." 

Frances  and  I  felt  that  we  were  traitors  to  our  country 
in  helping  the  French  king,  but  we  knew  that  in  the  end  he 
would  buy  Dunkirk  from  our  spendthrift  monarch,  and  that 
out  country's  loss  would  be  no  greater  by  reason  of  our 
gain.  Therefore  I  wrote  George  as  follows :  — 

"DEAR  FRIEND: 

"The  Duchess  of  Hearts  is  eager  and  confident.  Write 
at  once,  giving  full  directions. 

"YOUR  FRIEND." 

Frances  added  a  postscript  in  cipher,  but  I  shall  not 
translate  it. 

One  morning,  some  three  weeks  after  sending  my  letter, 
Frances  came  to  me  in  my  closet  in  the  Wardrobe,  and  I 
saw  at  once  she  was  in  great  trouble.  Her  eyes  were  red 
with  weeping,  and  the  woebegone  expression  of  her  face 
would  have  been  amusing  had  I  not  known  that  some  good 
cause  was  back  of  it.  As  soon  as  she  entered  I  saw  that  she 
was  going  to  speak,  but  closets  in  Whitehall  have  ears,  so  I 
placed  my  finger  on  my  lips  to  enjoin  silence,  and  spoke 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  if  any  one  was  listening :  — 

"Ah,  Frances,  I  forgot  that  I  had  promised  to  go  with  you 
to  your  father's  this  morning.  Wait  for  me  at  Holbein's 
Gate.  I'll  be  there  in  ten  minutes." 

Within  the  promised  time  I  found  Frances  at  Holbein's 
Gate,  and  we  walked  up  to  Charing  Cross,  thence  down  the 
Strand  toward  Temple  Bar. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Frances  ?  "  I  asked,  anxious  to  hear 
her  news,  which  I  feared  was  bad.  She  was  in  great  dis- 


232          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

tress,  and  I  saw  that  a  flood  of  tears  was  ready  to  accompany 
her  tale  of  woe,  so  I  said  hurriedly:  "Don't  cry.  Laugh 
while  you  speak.  You  will  attract  less  attention." 

She  tried  to  laugh,  but  the  effort  was  piteous  and  became 
a  failure,  as  she  said  :  — 

"George  Hamilton  has  sailed  for  Canada,  and  my  heart 
is  broken." 

Again  she  tried  to  smile,  but  the  smile  never  reached  her 
eyes,  for  they  were  full  of  tears. 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  asked,  almost  stunned  by  the 
news. 

She  tried  to  stay  her  tears,  but  failed,  and  answered  be- 
tween sobs :  "Last  night  at  the  queen's  ball,  the  king  showed 
me  a  letter  sent  by  order  of  the  French  king,  saying  that 
George  had  sailed  from  Bordeaux  for  Canada  nearly  a  fort- 
night ago.  I  could  not  help  showing  my  grief,  and  the  king, 
who  was  boisterously  happy,  said :  '  Now  you  will  forget 
him  and  listen  to  me.'  I  smiled,  but  it  was  a  poor  effort, 
and  he  smiled,  showing  his  yellow  fangs  as  he  left  me.  I 
pray  God  that  I  may  never  be  called  upon  to  hate  another 
man  as  I  hate  him." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  that  George  has  gone  to  Canada 
without  notifying  us,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  I  fear  it  is  true,"  she  returned.  "But  if  I  am  ever 
so  fortunate  as  to  find  him  again,  I  intend  to  go  with  him 
whether  he  consents  or  no,  regardless  of  father  and  all  the 
world.  Just  as  soon  as  I  learn  where  he  is  in  Canada, 
I  will  go  to  him.  You  will  take  me,  won't  you,  Baron 
Ned?" 

"I'll  not  give  that  promise,"  I  answered.  "But  I  am 
sure  there  is  something  back  of  King  Louis's  letter  of  which 
we  do  not  know.  Surely  George  would  not  have  sailed 
without  notifying  us." 

"He  may  have  feared  to  betray  himself  by  writing,"  she 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"     233 

suggested,  "since  King  Charles  had  asked  King  Louis  to 
detain  him." 

"That  is  true,"  I  returned.  "But  the  occasion  must  have 
been  urgent  indeed  if  he  could  not  have  sent  us  word  in  some 
manner." 

But  I  could  find  no  comfort  for  her,  for  I  really  believed 
that  George  had  gone  to  Canada,  and  there  was  a  certain 
relief  to  me  in  knowing  that  he  had  passed  out  of  Frances's 
life. 

After  a  long  silence  this  feeling  of  relief  found  unintentional 
expression  when  I  said :  — 

"Time  heals  all  wounds,  Frances.  One  of  these  days  you 
will  find  a  man  who  will  make  amends  for  your  present  loss, 
and  then  — " 

"No,  no,  Baron  Ned.  Your  words  are  spoken  in  kind- 
ness, but  what  you  suggest  is  impossible.  Perhaps  if  there 
had  been  fewer  obstacles  between  us,  or  if  I  had  not  mis- 
judged him  so  cruelly,  I  might  have  found  my  heart  more 
obedient  to  my  will." 

The  only  comfort  I  could  give  my  beautiful  cousin  was 
that  a  letter  would  soon  come  explaining  everything.  In 
default  of  a  letter,  I  promised  to  go  to  Paris  and  learn  the 
truth  from  George's  friends,  if  possible. 

Frances  did  not  go  back  to  Whitehall  that  day,  but  re- 
mained at  home,  pretending  to  be  ill  of  an  ague. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  Frances  not  having  returned  to 
Whitehall,  Sir  Richard  was  honored  by  a  visit  from  no  less 
a  person  than  the  king,  accompanied  by  the  duchess  and  a 
gentleman  in  waiting.  The  visit  was  made  incognito. 

As  a  result  of  this  royal  visit,  which  was  made  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  Frances,  a  part  of  Sir  Richard's  estates 
near  St.  Albans  were  restored  to  him,  and  from  poverty 
he  rose  at  once  to  a  comfortable  income  of,  say,  a  thousand 
or  twelve  hundred  pounds  a  year. 


234          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Immediately  all  of  Sir  Richard's  hatred  of  Charles  II 
fell  away,  and  once  more  the  king  shone  in  the  resplendent 
light  of  his  divine  appointment. 

While  Frances  estimated  the  king's  generosity  at  its 
true  value,  she  was  glad  her  father  had  received  even  a 
small  part  of  what  was  his  just  due,  and  although  she 
knew  the  restoration  had  been  made  to  please,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, to  win  her,  she  was  glad  to  have  spoiled  the  royal 
Philistine,  and  despised  him  more  than  ever  before,  if  that 
were  possible. 

Sir  Richard's  good  fortune  brought  a  gleam  of  joy  to 
Frances,  but  it  also  brought  a  pang  of  regret,  because  it 
had  come  too  late.  Her  only  purpose  in  going  to  White- 
hall had  been  to  marry  a  rich  nobleman  and  thereby  raise 
the  fallen  fortunes  of  her  house.  Now  that  reason  existed 
no  longer,  and  if  George  were  here,  she  could  throw  her- 
self away  upon  him  with  injury  to  no  one  but  herself.  But 
George  was  not  here,  and  liberty  to  throw  herself  away 
had  come  too  late  to  be  of  any  value. 

Every  day  during  the  fortnight  that  Frances  remained 
at  home,  she  asked  if  I  had  any  news  from  court,  mean- 
ing the  French  court,  but  using  the  form  of  inquiry  to 
avoid  acquainting  her  father  and  Sarah  with  the  real  cause 
of  her  solicitude. 

But  my  answers  were  always,  "Oh,  nothing  but  Castle- 
main's  new  tantrum,"  or  "The  duke's  defeat  at  pall-mall." 

Frances  was  the  last  girl  in  the  world,  save,  perhaps 
Sarah,  who  I  should  have  supposed  capable  of  languishing 
and  dying  of  love,  but  the  former  she  did  before  my  eyes, 
and  the  latter  I  almost  began  to  fear  if  news  did  not  reach 
us  soon  from  George. 

Betty  came  up  to  see  Frances  nearly  every  day,  and  the 
kissing  and  embracing  that  ensued  disgusted  Sarah. 

"Now,  if  Frances  were  a  man,  I  could  understand  it," 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    235 

said  Sarah.  "The  little  barmaid  must  be  tempting  to  a 
man,  being  pretty  and — " 

"Beautiful,  Sarah  !"  I  interrupted. 

"Yes,  beautiful,  if  you  will." 

"Her  eyes — "  I  began,  again  interrupting  Sarah. 

"Oh,  yes!"  cried  Sarah,  impatiently.  "Her  eyes  are 
fine  enough,  but  their  expression  comes  from  their  color, 
their  size,  and  their  preposterously  long  eyelashes.  Black 
long  lashes  often  give  a  radiance  to  the  eyes  which  passes 
for  expressiveness,  and  I  doubt  not  — " 

"Nonsense,  Sarah!"  I  cried,  half  angrily.  "Bettina's 
eyes  are  expressive  in  themselves.  As  you  say,  their  soft 
dark  brown  is  the  perfection  of  color,  and  they  certainly 
are  large.  But  aside  from  all  that,  their  expression  is  — 

"There  is  no  intellect  in  them  !"   cried  Sarah. 

"There  is  tenderness,  gentleness,  love,  and  truth  in 
them,"  I  answered,  with  as  careless  an  air  as  I  could  as- 
sume. 

"Yes,  there  may  be  for  a  man,  but  I  insist  there  is  no 
real  intellect." 

"Well,  Sarah,"  I  answered,  showing  irritation  despite  an 
effort  to  appear  indifferent,  "it  is  my  opinion  that  the 
possession  of  great  intellectual  power  by  a  woman  is  the 
one  virtue  with  which  men,  as  a  rule,  find  themselves 
most  willing  to  dispense.  It  gives  her  too  great  an  ad- 
vantage." 

"Yes,  a  soft,  plump  figure  like  Betty's,  long  lashes  and 
red  lips,  surrounded  by  dimples,  are  apt  to  please  a  fool." 

"But  they're  good  in  their  way,  Sarah,  you'll  admit  — 
excellent ! "  I  retorted  sharply,  caring  little  if  she  saw  that 
I  was  angry. 

"And  men  are  fools,  so  there  !  Not  another  word  about 
the  barmaid  !"  cried  Sarah,  dismissing  the  subject  with  a 
wave  of  her  hand. 


236          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

But  men,  too,  sometimes  like  to  have  the  last  word,  so  I 
remarked:  "The  mother  of  the  Duchess  of  York  was  a 
barmaid,  at  least,  a  barmistress." 

"Yes,  but  is  that  any  reason  why  Frances  should  be 
kissing  this  one?  Doubtless  your  friend  Betty  finds  men 
enough  to  do  the  office." 

"Sarah  !"  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet,  now  thoroughly 
angry.  "If  you  were  a  man,  I'd  give  you  the  lie  direct !  " 

Sarah  began  to  laugh  and  clapped  her  hands,  saying: 
"I  was  leading  you  on.  I  suspected  you  were  fond  of  her. 
Now  I  know  it." 

But  Sarah's  remark,  being  so  near  the  truth,  did  nothing 
to  allay  my  anger,  so  I  told  her  she  was  a  fool,  and  went 
into  an  adjoining  room,  where  I  found  Frances  and  Bettina 
luxuriating  in  tearful  sympathy. 

I  walked  home  with  Bettina,  and  she  invited  me  to  go  to 
her  parlor  to  have  a  cup  of  tea.  To  see  Bettina  boil  the 
tea  (steep  it  or  draw  it,  she  said  was  the  proper  phrase) 
was  as  pretty  a  sight  as  one  could  wish  to  behold,  and 
when  she  poured  it  out  in  thin  china  cups,  handing  one  to 
me  and  taking  one  herself,  her  pride  in  following  the  fashion 
of  modish  ladies  was  as  touching  as  it  was  simple  and 
beautiful.  It  was  almost  more  than  my  feeble  resolutions 
could  withstand,  so  when  I  was  about  to  leave  I  had  a 
great  battle  with  myself  and  was  defeated,  for  I  seized  her 
hands,  and  although  I  said  nothing,  she  knew  what  was  in 
my  mind,  so  she  hung  her  head,  murmuring :  - 

"If  you  are  willing  to  make  me  more  unhappy  than  I 
am." 

"Not  for  the  world,  Bettina,"  I  answered,  rallying 
against  myself.  "Good  night." 

"Good  night.  Now  I  know  you  are  my  friend,"  she 
answered  softly,  holding  my  hands  for  a  moment,  then 
dropping  them  suddenly  and  turning  from  me. 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    237 

I  have  refrained  from  speaking  of  Mary  Hamilton  of 
late,  partly  because  I  did  not  see  her  frequently  at  this 
time,  and  partly  because  the  shame  I  felt  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  now  writing  comes  surging  over  me  whenever  I 
touch  upon  the  subject.  Not  that  I  did  anything  of  which 
I  need  be  ashamed,  but  because  I  remember  so  vividly 
my  motives  and  desires  that  the  old  sensations  return, 
even  at  this  distant  day,  as  a  perfume,  a  strain  of  music, 
the  soft  balminess  of  spring,  or  the  sharp  bite  of  winter's 
frost  may  recall  a  moment  of  the  past,  and  set  the  heart 
throbbing  or  still  it  as  of  yore. 

After  leaving  Bettina,  I  went  back  to  Whitehall  and 
dressed  for  a  ball  which  the  queen  was  giving  that  night. 
It  was  an  unfortunate  time  for  me  to  see  Mary.  My 
heart  was  full,  not  to  overflowing,  but  to  sinking,  with  my 
love  of  Bettina  and  her  love  of  me.  There  was  nothing  I 
would  not  have  given  at  that  time  to  be  able  to  take  her 
as  my  wife.  I  should  have  been  glad  to  give  my  title, 
estates,  and  position  —  everything  —  to  be  a  simple  trades- 
man or  an  innkeeper  so  that  I  might  take  Bettina  with 
happiness  to  her  and  without  the  damning  sin  of  losing 
caste  to  me. 

It  was  true  the  king's  brother  had  made  a  marriage  of 
comparatively  the  same  sort,  but  it  is  almost  as  impossible 
for  a  prince  to  lose  caste  as  it  is  difficult  for  a  mere  baron 
to  keep  it.  Bettina  would  not  be  happy  in  my  sphere  of 
life,  nor  could  I  live  in  hers,  so  what  was  there  for  me  to 
do  but  to  keep  my  engagement  with  Mary  Hamilton  and, 
if  I  could,  lose  my  love  for  Bettina. 

The  queen's  ball  was  to  be  held  that  night  at  St.  James's 
Palace,  and  I  was  glad  to  have  the  walk  from  Whitehall 
across  the  park.  The  night  was  perfect.  A  slim  moon 
hung  in  the  west,  considerately  withholding  a  part  of  her 


238          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

light  that  the  stars  might  twinkle  the  brighter  in  their  vain 
effort  to  rival  Bettina's  eyes.  The  night  wind  came  to 
me,  odor-laden  from  the  roses,  only  to  show  me  how  poor  a 
thing  it  was  compared  with  Bettina's  breath  upon  my 
cheek  and  its  sweetness  in  my  nostrils.  Now  and  then  a 
belated  bird  sang  its  sleepy  song,  only  to  remind  me  of  the 
melody  of  her  lullabies,  and  the  cooing  dove  moaned  out 
its  plaintive  call  lest  I  forget  the  pain  in  her  breast  while 
selfishly  remembering  the  ache  in  my  own.  Then  I  thought 
of  what  the  Good  Book  says  about  " bright  clouds,"  and  I 
prayed  that  my  pain  might  make  me  a  better  man  and 
might  lead  me  to  help  Bettina  in  the  days  of  her  sorrowing, 
which  I  knew  were  at  hand. 

Soon  after  I  had  kissed  the  hands  of  the  king  and  the 
queen,  I  met  George's  brother,  Count  Anthony  Hamilton. 
He  had  never  been  friendly  to  his  younger  brother,  and  had 
ceased  to  look  upon  him  as  a  brother  at  all  after  his  dis- 
graceful reformation.  Then  when  the  king  turned  against 
George,  Anthony,  good  courtier  that  he  was,  turned  like- 
wise, and  there  is  no  bitterness  that  may  be  compared  with 
that  of  an  apostate  brother. 

After  we  had  talked  for  a  minute  or  two,  Count  Anthony 
asked  if  I  knew  anything  of  "the  fool,"  as  he  was  pleased 
to  call  his  brother. 

"I  know  nothing  of  your  brother  George,  my  lord,  if  it 
is  him  you  mean." 

"He  is  no  brother  of  mine,  and  if  you  wish  to  become  a 
member  of  our  family,  you  will  cease  to  consider  him  your 
friend,"  returned  his  Lordship,  making  an  effort  to  conceal 
his  anger. 

I  was  not  in  the  mood  to  take  his  remark  kindly,  there- 
fore I  answered  warmly :  — 

"Shall  my  entering  the  ranks  of  your  noble  family  cur- 
tail my  privilege  of  choosing  my  own  friends  ?" 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES   THE  DESERT"     239 

"No,  with  one  exception,"  he  replied. 

"The  honor  of  the  alliance  is  great,  my  lord,  but  I 
shall  not  consent  to  even  one  exception  at  your  dictation. 
Your  sister,  my  future  wife,  loves  her  brother,  and  if  she 
does  not  object  to  my  friendship  for  him,  your  Lordship 
oversteps  your  authority,  as  head  of  your  house,  by  pro- 
testing." 

He  turned  angrily  upon  me,  saying:  "You  have  been 
paying  your  court  with  lukewarm  ardor  of  late,  Baron 
Clyde.  Perhaps  you  would  not  grieve  if  your  friendship 
for  a  family  outcast  were  to  bar  you  from  the  family." 

"If  your  Lordship  means  to  say  that  I  wish  to  withdraw 
dishonorably  from  my  engagement  with  your  sister,  I 
crave  the  privilege  of  telling  you  that  you  lie  !" 

I  never  was  more  calm  in  my  life,  and  my  words  brought 
a  cold  smile  to  Hamilton's  lips. 

"My  friend  De  Grammont  will  have  the  honor  of  wait- 
ing on  you  to-morrow  morning,"  he  answered,  bowing 
politely. 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  his  Grace,"  I  answered. 
"Goodnight,  my  lord!" 

Here  was  a  solution  of  my  problem  in  so  far  as  it  con- 
cerned my  engagement  with  Mary  Hamilton,  for  if  I  killed 
her  brother,  she  would  not  marry  me,  and  if  he  killed  me, 
I  could  not  marry  her.  The  fact  that  a  gleam  of  joy  came 
to  me  because  of  my  unexpected  release  caused  me  to  feel 
that  I  was  a  coward  not  to  have  broken  the  engagement 
in  an  honorable,  straightforward  manner  rather  than  to 
have  seized  this  opportunity  to  force  a  duel  upon  her 
brother.  It  is  true  I  had  not  sought  the  duel  deliberately 
and  had  not  thought  it  possible  one  second  before  uttering 
the  word  that  made  it  necessary.  Still  it  was  my  act  that 
brought  it  about,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  taken  an  unmanly 
course. 


240          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

After  leaving  Count  Anthony  I  walked  across  the  room 
to  where  Mary  was  standing  at  the  outer  edge  of  a  circle 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  surrounded  De  Grammont, 
listening  to  a  narrative  in  broken  English,  of  his  adven- 
tures, fancied  or  real,  I  know  not  which,  but  interesting, 
and  all  of  a  questionable  character. 

When  I  spoke  to  Mary,  she  turned  and  gave  me  her 
hand.  I  had  not  expected  the  least  display  of  emotion  on 
her  part ;  therefore  I  was  not  disappointed  when  the  smile 
with  which  she  greeted  me  was  the  same  she  would  have 
given  to  any  other  man.  But  Mary  was  Mary.  Nature 
and  art  had  made  her  what  she  was — charming,  quiescent, 
and  calm,  not  cold,  simply  lukewarm. 

"I  have  seen  little  of  you  this  last  month,"  said  Mary, 
taking  my  arm  and  walking  with  me  away  from  De  Gram- 
mont's  group.  She  might  have  remarked  with  equal 
emotion  that  Cromwell  was  dead  or  the  weather  fine.  She 
did  not  wait  for  an  explanation  of  my  absence,  but  con- 
tinued with  a  touch  of  eager  hesitancy  and  a  fluttering  show 
of  anxiety,  "Have  you  had  news  recently  of  my  brother 
George?" 

Of  course  I  could  not  tell  her  the  truth,  so  I  answered 
evasively:  "I  suppose  you  have  heard  the  news  spread 
throughout  the  court  that  he  has  gone  to  Canada  ?  Doubt- 
less you  can  tell  me  more  than  I  know." 

"That  is  all  I  know,"  she  answered.  "When  he  went, 
or  where,  I  have  been  unable  to  learn,  for  George  is  a  for- 
bidden topic  in  our  household  and  seems  to  be  the  same  at 
court.  What  has  he  done,  baron  ?  I  have  heard  it  hinted 
that  he  threatened  tp  take  the  king's  life.  Surely  he  did 
nothing  of  the  sort." 

"If  he  did,  it  was  in  a  delirium  of  fever,"  I  answered, 
hoping  that  she  would  cease  speaking  of  George  and  would 
ask  a  question  or  two  concerning  myself. 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    241 

But  no.  She  turned  again  to  me,  asking,  "Did  you  hear 
him?" 

"I  have  been  told  that  the  accusation  comes  from  his 
physician,  and  perhaps  from  one  who  was  listening  at  his 
door,"  I  answered,  avoiding  a  direct  reply. 

"I  suspect  the  informant  is  a  wretched  little  hussy  of 
whom  I  have  heard  —  the  daughter  of  the  innkeeper,"  re- 
marked Mary,  looking  up  to  me  for  confirmation. 

"Suspect  no  longer,"  I  answered,  with  sharper  emphasis 
than  I  should  have  used. 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  do  not  know  a  'wretched  hussy'  who  is  the  daughter 
of  the  innkeeper,"  I  answered  sullenly.  "I  know  a  beau- 
tiful girl  who  watched  devotedly  at  your  brother's  bedside, 
day  and  night,  and  probably  saved  his  life  at  a  time  when 
he  was  deserted  by  his  sisters  and  his  mother." 

"We  often  find  that  sort  of  kindness  in  those  low 
creatures,"  she  answered,  unaware  of  the  tender  spot  she 
was  touching,  and  ignoring  my  reference  to  George's  sisters 
and  his  mother. 

Naturally  Mary  was  kind  of  heart,  but  her  mother  was 
a  hard,  painted  old  Jezebel,  whose  teachings  would  have 
led  her  daughter  away  from  every  gentle  truth  and  up  to 
all  that  was  hard,  cruel,  and  selfish  in  life.  A  woman  in  the 
higher  walks  of  life  is  liable  to  become  enamelled  before  her 
twentieth  year. 

While  I  did  not  blame  Mary  for  what  she  had  said  relat- 
ing to  Bettina,  still  I  was  angry  and  longed  to  do  battle 
with  any  one  who  could  fight. 

After  we  had  been  together  perhaps  ten  minutes,  some 
one  claimed  her  for  a  dance,  and  she  left  me,  saying  hurriedly 
in  my  ear :  — 

"I'll  see  you  soon  again.  I  want  to  ask  you  further 
about  George."  She  had  not  a  question  to  ask  about  me. 


242          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

She  was  not  to  see  me  again,  for  I  asked  permission  of 
the  queen  to  withdraw,  and  immediately  left  the  ball. 

While  I  was  crossing  the  park  on  my  way  back  to  White- 
hall, the  wind  moaned  and  groaned  —  it  did  not  breathe. 
The  stars  did  not  twinkle  —  they  glared.  The  nightingales 
did  not  sing  —  they  screamed.  And  the  roses  were  odor- 
less. Perhaps  all  this  change  to  gloom  was  within  me 
rather  than  without,  but  it  existed  just  the  same,  and  I 
went  home  and  to  bed,  hating  all  the  world  save  Bettina, 
whom  I  vowed  for  the  hundredth  time  never  to  see  again. 

The  next  day  at  noon  De  Grammont  came  to  my  closet, 
where  I  had  waited  for  him  all  morning. 

"Welcome  to  you,  dear  count !"  I  cried,  leading  him  by 
the  hand  to  a  chair. 

"Perhaps  you  will  not  so  warmly  welcome  me,"  he  re- 
turned, "when  you  learn  my  errand." 

"I  already  know  your  errand,  Count  Grammont,  and  it 
makes  you  doubly  welcome,"  I  answered,  drawing  a  chair 
for  myself  and  sitting  down  in  front  of  him. 

"Ah,  that  is  of  good,"  he  returned,  rubbing  his  hands. 
"You  already  know  the  purpose  of  my  visit?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  my  dear  count,  but  any  purpose  would 
delight  me  which  brings  the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"Ah,  it  is  said  like  a  civilized  man,"  he  returned,  com- 
plimenting me  by  speaking  English,  though  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  reproduce  his  pronunciation.  "How  far  better 
it  is  to  say:  'Monsieur,  permit  to  me,'  before  one  runs  a 
man  through  than  to  do  it  as  though  one  were  sticking  a 
mere  pig.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"True  as  sunshine,  my  dear  count,"  I  returned.  " There's 
a  vast  difference  between  the  trade  of  butchering  and  the 
gentle  art  of  murder." 

De  Grammont  threw  back  his  head,  laughing  softly. 
"Ah,  good,  good  !  Very  good,  dear  baron  !  The  sentiment 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    243 

is  beau-ti-f ul  and  could  not  be  better  expressed  —  in  Eng- 
lish. You  should  have  been  born  across  the  channel." 

"I  wish  I  had  been  born  any  place,  not  excepting  hell, 
rather  than  in  England,"  I  answered. 

"True,  true,  what  a  hole  it  is,"  returned  the  count, 
regretfully.  "The  Englishman  is  one  pig." 

He  saw  by  the  expression  of  my  face  that  while  I  might 
abuse  my  own  countrymen,  I  did  not  relish  hearing  it 
from  others,  so  with  true  French  tact  he  held  up  his  hand 
to  keep  me  from  speaking  till  he  could  correct  himself. 

"Pardon,  baron,  I  forgot  the  *r.'  The  Englishman's 
affectation  of  a  virtue  he  despises  makes  of  him  a  prig  — 
not  a  pig.  Non,  non  !  Mon  Dieu  !  Not  a  pig  —  a  prig  ! 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"True,  true,  count,"  I  returned,  unable  to  restrain  a 
laugh.  "It  is  the  affectation  of  virtue  that  makes  frank 
vice  attractive  by  comparison." 

"Ah,  true,  true,  my  dear  baron.  May  I  proceed  with 
my  errand  ?  " 

"Proceed,  count." 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  Hamilton  begs  me  to  say  that  he 
was  called  away  from  London  early  to-day  on  the  king's 
business,  but  that  he  will  return  in  four  weeks.  When  he 
returns  he  will  do  himself  the  honor  to  send  me  again,  ask- 
ing you  to  name  a  friend,  unless  you  prefer  to  apologize, 
which  no  gentleman  would  do  in  a  case  of  this  sort.  You 
said,  I  am  told,  that  Monsieur  le  Comte  lied.  If  you  admit 
that  he  did  not  lie,  of  course  you  admit  that  you  did.  So, 
im-pos-si-ble  !  There  must  be  to  fight !" 

"Do  you  know,  count,  the  cause  of  my  having  given 
Count  Hamilton  the  lie?"  I  asked. 

"I  did  not  inquire,"  he  answered  smilingly.  "To  me  it 
was  to  carry  the  message." 

"George  Hamilton  is  your  friend,  is  he  not?"   I  asked. 


244          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,  but  far  more,  he  is  the  friend  of  my  king,  and  will 
make  entreaty  with  my  monarch  for  my  return  to  France," 
answered  De  Grammont. 

"It  was  because  of  Count  Hamilton's  insulting  reference 
to  his  brother  that  I  used  the  ugly  word,"  I  returned. 

"A-ah,  that  is  different!"  Then  recovering  himself 
quickly:  "But  I  undertook  the  mission.  It  is  to  finish. 
Monsieur  George  Hamilton?  My  friend?  My  king's 
friend  ?  If  it  had  been  known  to  me  !  But  you  have  the 
message  of  'Sieur  le  Comte." 

After  a  short  silence  he  said,  "When  Monsieur  le  Comte 
Hamilton  returns,  I  shall  ask  him  to  relieve  me  of  this 
duty." 

As  De  Grammont  was  leaving  my  closet,  he  paused  at 
the  door,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitancy,  whispered :  — 

"You  may  expect  a  letter  from  France  soon.  It  will 
come  from  M.  1'Abbe  du  Boise,  who  I  hope  will  come  soon 
to  London  on  the  business  of  my  king.  You  know  him 
not  —  M.  1'Abbe?"  The  eyebrows  lifted  questioningly. 
"No?  You  soon  will  know  him,  yet  you  will  not  know 
him.  You  and  perhaps  a  lady  may  help  him  in  his  mission. 
I,  too,  shall  help  him,  but  I,  too,  know  him  not.  Yet  I 
know  him.  If  he  succeed  in  his  mission,  he  will  be  rich, 
he  will  be  powerful.  And  I  ?  Mon  Dieu,  my  friend  !  If 
he  succeed,  my  decree  of  banishment  from  Paris  —  it 
will  be  to  revoke.  I  may  return  once  more  to  bask  in  the 
smile  of  my  king.  You  must  not  speak;  the  lady  must 
not  speak ;  I  must  not  speak  when  Monsieur  1'Abbe  comes, 
nor  before.  It  is  to  silence.  Stone  walls  have  one  ear." 

"Two,  sometimes,  count,"  I  suggested,  laughing. 

"Yes,  I  should  have  said  one  ears  !  Non,  non !  I  for- 
get this  damnable  tongue  of  yours !  When  I  arrive  to 
great  interest,  it  is  to  talk  faster  than  it  is  to  think,  and  — " 
A  shrug  of  the  shoulders  finished  the  sentence. 


"ALL  SUNSHINE   MAKES  THE   DESERT"     245 

"Let  us  speak  French  hereafter,  my  dear  count,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!  It  is  to  me  more  of  pain  to 
hear  my  sweet  language  murdered  than  to  murder  yours," 
answered  Grammont,  seriously. 

"Ah,  but  I  speak  French  quite  as  well  as  I  speak  Eng- 
lish. Perhaps  I  shall  not  murder  it,"  I  replied. 

"Perhaps?  We  shall  try,"  he  said,  though  with  little 
show  of  faith. 

I  began  speaking  French,  but  when  I  paused  for  his 
verdict,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying :  — 

"Ah,  oui,  ouit  It  may  be  better  than  my  English." 
But  notwithstanding  his  scant  praise,  we  spoke  the  French 
language  thereafter. 

The  count  bowed  himself  out  and  left  me  to  decipher,  if 
I  could,  the  problem  of  M.  1'Abbe  du  Boise.  Presently  I 
discovered  the  cue.  The  Abbe  was  George  Hamilton,  and 
for  the  moment  my  heart  almost  stopped  beating.  If  he 
should  come  to  England  on  the  French  king's  business, 
which  could  be  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  Dunkirk 
affair,  and  should  be  discovered,  there  would  be  a  public 
entertainment  on  Tyburn  Hill,  with  George  as  the  central 
figure. 

When  I  found  a  spare  hour,  I  hastened  to  see  Lilly  and 
came  upon  the  good  Doctor  among  the  stars,  as  usual. 
There  was  a  letter  for  me  from  Hamilton.  It  was  short 
and  in  cipher :  — 

"DEAR  FRIEND: 

"This  is  to  tell  you  that  M.  1'Abbe  du  Boise  will  soon  be 
in  London.  He  will  be  the  guest  of  M.  Comte  de  Gram- 
mont. 

"You  do  not  know  him.  Please  call  on  him  when  he 
arrives.  Tell  the  Duchess  of  Hearts  that  he  will  want  to 


246          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

see  her.  Ask  her  to  be  ready  to  help  him.  He  goes  to  buy 
Dunkirk  for  the  French  king,  and  his  success  will  mean 
good  fortune  for  me. 

"Your  friend, 
"LE  BLANC." 

After  reading  the  letter,  I  felt  sure  that  the  Abbe  du 
Boise  was  George  Hamilton.  I  could  hardly  bring  my- 
self to  believe  that  he  would  be  so  foolhardy  as  to  visit 
Whitehall,  though  I  knew  the  adventure  was  of  a  nature 
likely  to  appeal  to  his  reckless  disregard  of  consequences. 
I  knew  also  that,  if  successful,  he  would  win  the  reward 
without  which  life  had  little  value  to  him. 

I  was  sure  that  Hamilton  had  fully  weighed  the  danger 
of  his  perilous  mission,  and  that  he  was  deliberately  stak- 
ing his  life  on  a  last  desperate  chance  to  win  fortune  and 
Frances  Jennings. 

Though  perhaps  Lilly  was  a  charlatan  in  many  respects, 
he  was  to  be  trusted;  still  I  did  not  feel  that  it  was  my 
place  to  impart  George's  secret  to  him,  though  I  had  in 
mind  a  plan  whereby  he  might  be  of  great  help  to  the 
Abbe  du  Boise  in  influencing  King  Charles.  The  king 
consulted  him  secretly  in  many  important  affairs,  and  I 
was  sure  that  if  the  good  Doctor  should  be  called  in  by  his 
Majesty  hi  the  Dunkirk  affair,  the  stars  would  tell  a  story 
in  accord  with  our  desires  if  we  made  it  to  Lilly's  interest. 

However,  all  of  that  must  wait  for  the  Abbe  du  Boise. 
Of  one  thing  I  was  sure;  I  must  tell  Frances  at  once  so 
that  she  might  be  paving  the  way  to  the  king  with  her 
smiles.  It  would  be  a  disagreeable  task,  but  I  knew  she 
would  do  it  gladly,  and  I  also  knew  that  no  woman  could 
do  it  better. 

While  I  had  expressed  my  doubts  to  Frances  concerning 
Hamilton's  emigration  to  Canada,  I  had  not  felt  entirely 


"ALL  SUNSHINE  MAKES  THE  DESERT"    247 

sure  there  was  nothing  in  it,  and  she,  womanlike,  taking 
the  worst  for  granted,  had  accepted  it  as  true.  But  the 
coming  of  the  Abbe  du  Boise  changed  everything,  and 
when  I  saw  her  at  her  father's  house  and  told  her  of  my 
suspicions,  and  showed  her  Le  Blanc's  letter,  she  was  so 
greatly  alarmed  that  she  said  she  would  rather  know  that 
George  had  gone  to  Canada  than  to  fear  his  return  to 
England  under  the  circumstances. 

"The  dastardly  king  will  take  his  life  if  he  comes,"  she 
said. 

"I  admit  the  danger,"  I  answered,  as  hopefully  as  pos- 
sible, "but  I  believe,  if  George  comes,  he  will  be  able  to 
take  care  of  himself." 

''Danger !"  she  exclaimed.  "It  is  certain  death! 
George  will  find  no  mercy." 

"If  he  is  caught,"  I  answered.  "But  the  letter  from 
King  Louis  will  convince  King  Charles  that  Hamilton  is  in 
Canada  and  will  throw  our  jealous  monarch  off  his  guard. 
Perhaps  Hamilton  will  be  safer  than  we  suppose.  He  speaks 
French  like  a  Parisian,  but,  above  all,  he  is  cool,  calm,  and 
thoughtful  in  danger.  The  London  merchants  will  be  far 
more  dangerous  than  the  king." 

"It  does  seem  that  we  are  guilty  of  treason  to  our  coun- 
try in  thus  helping  France,"  she  said.  Then  laughingly, 
"But  I'll  go  back  to  the  palace  at  once  and  begin  my  task 
of  wheedling  the  king."  She  paused  for  a  moment,  then 
continued  hesitatingly,  "Do  you  suppose  it  possible  that 
George  would  doubt  me  afterwards?" 

"Impossible,"  I  answered,  with  emphasis  that  seemed  to 
reassure  her. 

"I  am  doing  it  for  him,"  she  continued  with  a  sigh.  "  God 
knows  I  would  do  almost  anything  in  the  same  cause.  But 
I  do  not  know  men,  and  I  fear  it  is  possible  that  he  will 
doubt  me  after  I  have  succeeded.  Let  us  go  to  see  Bettv 


248          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

She  is  restful  to  me,  and  always  soothes  my  nerves.  But 
besides,  I  want  to  have  her  help.  I'll  introduce  her  to  the 
king—" 

"No,  by  God,  you'll  not  introduce  her  to  the  king  !  I'll 
explode  the  whole  affair,  and  Dunkirk  may  go  to  the  devil 
before  you  shall  introduce  Betty  to  the  king,"  I  answered. 

"  Yet  you  are  willing  that  I  should  meddle  in  the  dangerous 
affair  ?  Evidently  you  love  her  more  than  you  love  me  ?  " 

"Only  a  few  hundred  million  times  more,"  I  answered 
sullenly. 

"Is  it  that  way  with  you,  my  dear  brother?"  she  asked, 
coming  to  me  as  I  stood  gazing  out  the  window,  seeing 
nothing  save  Bettina's  face.  Frances  put  her  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  said  coaxingly :  "Forgive  me.  No  harm  shall 
come  to  her  through  me." 

Of  course  I  was  sorry  that  I  had  allowed  myself  to  become 
angry,  and  at  once  made  my  apology  as  well  as  I  could. 

"Let  us  go  to  see  Betty,  anyway,"  said  Frances.  And  I 
assenting,  she  went  to  fetch  her  cloak,  hat,  and  vizard. 

But  when  she  returned,  I  had  changed  my  mind  and  de- 
clined to  go,  telling  Frances  that  I  must  see  Bettina  no  more. 

"Why?"  asked  Frances. 

"Because  I  would  not  win  a  love  from  her  which  I  cannot 
accept." 

"Baron  Ned,  there  are  few  men  who  would  be  so  consider- 
ate." 

But  I  required  little  coaxing,  and  when  Frances  had  made 
ready  for  the  journey,  I  buckled  on  my  sword,  which  I  had 
left  standing  in  the  corner,  took  my  hat  from  the  floor,  and 
started  out  with  her. 

While  walking  from  the  Bridge  to  the  Old  Swan,  I  re- 
marked to  Frances,  "My  engagement  with  Mary  Hamilton 
is  likely  to  be  broken  by  her  family." 

"  Why,  Baron  Ned  ?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 


"ALL   SUNSHINE   MAKES  THE   DESERT"     249 

"Count  Hamilton  has  challenged  me  to  a  duel,  to  be  fought 
when  he  returns,  and  you  see,  if  I  kill  him  or  if  he  kills  me, 
well  — "I  answered,  shrugging  my  shoulders. 

She  was  much  alarmed  at  my  disclosure,  but  was  reas- 
sured when  I  made  light  of  the  affair,  probably  because  there 
was  no  danger  in  it  to  George  Hamilton,  and,  perhaps,  be- 
cause if  I  should  kill  Count  Hamilton,  George  would  inherit 
the  title  and  estates. 

"But  poor  Mary  !    She  will  grieve,"  said  Frances. 

"  I  think  you  need  waste  no  tears  for  her  sake,"  I  answered. 
"She  is  a  fine,  pretty  little  creature,  who  will  take  what 
comes  her  way  without  excess  of  pain  or  joy.  She  is  in- 
capable of  feeling  keenly.  God  has  been  good  to  her  in  giv- 
ing her  numbness." 

"No,  no,  cousin  Ned,  you  are  wrong!"  she  returned. 
"Life  without  pain  is  not  worth  living.  I  have  heard  that 
the  Arabs  have  a  saying,  'All  sunshine  makes  the  desert.' 
God  is  good  to  us  when  he  darkens  the  sun  now  and  then 
and  gives  us  the  sunshine  afterwards." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Frances,"  I  returned.  "But  you 
and  I  are  in  the  cloud  now,  and  a  little  sunshine  would  be 
most  welcome." 

"Not  enough  sunshine  to  make  a  desert,"  she  answered. 

"Ay  !  But  enough  to  make  a  garden,"  I  returned,  as  we 
climbed  the  narrow  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  private 
entrance  to  the  Old  Swan. 

When  we  paused  at  the  door,  Frances  said,  "Your  garden 
is  at  hand."  And  when  she  opened  the  door,  there  stood 
Betty,  and  I  was  in  Eden.  The  moist  glow  of  her  eyes,  the 
faint  blush  of  her  cheeks,  the  nervous  fluttering  of  her  voice, 
spoke  more  eloquently  than  all  the  tongues  of  Babel  could 
have  spoken,  and  I  could  not  help  comparing  her  welcome 
with  that  which  Mary  Hamilton  had  given  me  at  the  queen's 
ball. 


250          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Bettina  led  us  to  the  parlor,  and  while  we  were  drinking 
a  cup  of  tea,  we  had  the  great  pleasure  of  asking  and  an- 
swering questions  of  which  we  always  had  a  large  supply  in 
reserve. 

When  it  was  time  to  go,  Bettina  walked  down  to  the 
Bridge  with  us.  As  it  was  growing  dark,  Frances  suggested 
that  I  walk  back  to  the  Old  Swan  with  Betty,  which  I  did, 
she  taking  my  arm  of  her  own  accord,  and  both  of  us  very 
happy,  though  we  spoke  not  a  word,  for  fear  of  saying  too 
much,  save  "good  night"  at  the  door. 

"Good  night  at  the  door !"  God  gave  its  sweetness  to 
youth  right  out  of  the  core  of  His  infinite  love. 


CHAPTER   XH 

A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY 

FOUR  or  five  days  after  our  visit  to  Bettina,  I  met 
De  Grammont  at  Charing  Cross,  and  he  surprised 
me  with  an  invitation  to  his  house  that  night  to 
meet  Monsieur  FAbbe  du  Boise  at  supper. 

"The  king  and  a  dozen  other  gentlemen  will  be  present," 
he  said,  "but  there  will  be  no  ladies.  Monsieur  1'Abbe, 
being  of  the  church,  is  not  a  ladies'  man,  and  besides,  ladies 
have  sharper  eyes  than  men,  and  might  see  much  that  is 
intended  to  remain  unseen." 

The  count's  remark  seemed  to  settle  the  question  of  the 
Abbe's  identity,  and  I  hastened  to  Frances  with  the  news. 
She  assured  me  that  she  was  ready  to  die  of  fright,  but  showed 
no  outward  sign  of  dissolution,  and  when  I  complimented 
her  on  her  power  of  self-control,  said  :  — 

"Fortunately,  I  am  part  hypocrite,  and  can  easily  act  a 
part." 

"You  have  a  hard  one  ahead  of  you,"  I  returned,  "and 
will  need  all  your  strength  before  it  is  played  to  the  end." 

I  was  on  hand  early  at  De  Grammont's  supper,  but  found 
several  gentlemen  ahead  of  me,  awaiting,  with  the  count  in 
his  parlor,  the  arrival  of  the  king.  Soon  after  I  entered  the 
room,  De  Grammont  presented  me  to  the  Abbe.  I  was 
convinced  at  once  that  he  was  not  George  Hamilton.  His 
beard,  worn  a  la  Richelieu,  —  a  mustache  and  a  tuft  on  the 
chin,  —  was  snow  white,  and  his  hair,  which  was  thin,  hung 

251 


252          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

in  long  white  waves  almost  to  his  shoulders.  He  walked 
with  a  stoop  and  wore  spectacles,  the  glasses  of  which  were 
slightly  colored.  Being  an  ecclesiastic,  though  not  a  priest, 
he  wore  no  wig ;  but  he  was  of  the  Order  of  the  Cordon  Bleu, 
and  wore,  in  addition  to  his  badge  and  blue  ribbon,  a  sword 
beneath  his  long  coat.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen 
an  ecclesiastic  wearing  a  sword,  though  it  has  since  become 
common  in  France,  where  there  are  many  "  Abbes"  who  are 
neither  priests  nor  in  orders. 

The  Abbe  spoke  poor  English,  therefore  the  conversation 
was  carried  on  in  French,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  some 
of  our  guests,  who  pretended  to  a  greater  knowledge  of  that 
language  than  they  possessed. 

Soon  after  my  presentation  to  the  Abbe,  the  king  arrived, 
and  we  all  went  out  to  the  supper  table,  where  the  Abbe's 
chair  was  on  the  king's  right,  with  De  Grammont  on  his 
Majesty's  left.  After  the  king  had  been  seated  a  moment, 
he  rose  and  asked  us  to  be  seated ;  so  we  took  our  places,  all 
save  the  king  dropping  our  hats  beside  us  on  the  floor  be- 
cause of  his  Majesty's  presence. 

I  sat  next  to  De  Grammont,  almost  opposite  the  Abbe,  and 
had  a  good  opportunity  to  observe  the  French  emissary. 
The  king's  French  was  excellent,  and  the  dinner  conversa- 
tion was  carried  on  largely  between  him  and  the  Abbe.  All 
subjects  were  discussed,  but  the  Abbe  adroitly  avoided 
Dunkirk  and  seemed  to  prefer  talking  on  religious  and 
philosophical  topics,  in  which  he  took  the  liberty  to  disagree 
with  the  king  in  many  respects,  politely  though  positively. 

I  listened  attentively,  hoping  that  some  tone  of  the  Abbe's 
voice,  a  pose  or  a  gesture,  might  reveal  George  Hamilton,  if 
it  were  he,  in  the  most  excellent  disguise  I  had  ever  seen. 
But  nothing  of  the  sort  occurred,  and  before  the  dinner  was 
over,  I  was  still  more  convinced  that  whoever  the  Abbe  du 
Boise  might  be,  he  was  not  Hamilton, 


A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY  253 

After  dinner  came  the  heavy  wines,  of  which  the  Abbe  did 
not  partake,  and  of  which  De  Grammont  and  I  drank  spar- 
ingly. All  the  others,  including  the  king,  were  gloriously 
drunk  long  before  the  night  was  over. 

While  smoking  our  pipes,  the  king,  who  was  eager  to  get 
his  hands  on  French  money,  told  the  Abbe  that  he  hoped  to 
see  him,  with  his  credentials,  at  Whitehall  on  the  second 
morning  following  at  ten  o'clock,  and  the  Abbe  said  he  would 
leave  his  credentials  with  my  Lord  Clarendon,  and  would  be 
at  Whitehall  at  the  hour  suggested  by  the  king,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  the  French  king's  offer. 

Most  of  the  guests  went  home  between  two  men,  very  late 
at  night,  but  fortunately  I  was  able  to  walk  home  by  myself. 

I  was  both  glad  and  disappointed  not  to  find  George  in  the 
gown  of  the  Abbe.  I  was  glad  because  of  the  risk  he  would 
have  taken  had  he  come  to  England,  yet  disappointed  in 
missing  what  would  have  been  the  most  picturesque,  daring 
personal  exploit  of  English  court  history.  But  on  the  whole 
it  was  better  as  it  was. 

The  next  morning  the  king  sent  for  me  to  come  to  his 
closet,  and  asked  if  I  knew  one  Lilly,  an  astrologer.  I  an- 
swered that  I  knew  little  of  him  personally,  but  had  heard 
much  of  his  wisdom  and  learning. 

"Yes,  yes,  but  you  know  where  he  lives,  do  you  not? 
On  the  Strand,  a  dozen  houses  this  side  of  Temple  Bar  ? " 
asked  the  king. 

"I  have  seen  the  house  often,  your  Majesty,"  I  replied. 

"Good  !  Now  listen  attentively  to  what  I  have  to  say," 
returned  the  king,  graciously  taking  my  arm  and  leading 
me  to  a  window  overlooking  the  river.  "I  hear  from  De 
Grammont  that  the  Abbe  du  Boise  is  a  firm  believer  in  the 
teachings  of  astrology.  I  want  you  to  arrange,  without 
letting  any  one  know  that  my  finger  is  in  the  pie,  to  take 
Lilly  to  see  the  Abbe,  or  the  Abbe  to  see  Lilly.  I'll  whisper 


254          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

a  word  in  your  ear.  The  stars  will  tell  our  friend,  the  Abbe, 
a  story  to  suit  our  purposes.  The  French  king  and  his 
ambassadors  will  find  their  match  in  me,  I  warrant  you. 
I  have  bought  Lilly,  body  and  soul  —  with  promises."  The 
king  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  whispered:  "With  prom- 
ises, you  understand,  Baron  Ned,  with  promises.  Now  give 
him  a  chance  at  the  Abbe." 

Charles  laughed  and  chuckled  in  self-gratulation,  not  the 
least  suspecting  that  he  was  talking  to  the  wrong  man  and 
playing  into  the  French  king's  hand.  I  bore  in  mind  the 
fact  that  the  king  had  bought  Lilly  with  promises,  and  I 
determined  to  buy  the  good  Doctor  with  ready  gold. 

"I'll  try  to  carry  out  your  Majesty's  commands,"  I  an- 
swered, apparently  doubtful  of  my  ability.  "But  of  course 
you  would  not  have  me  insist,  if  the  Abbe  seems  disinclined 
to  consult  Lilly." 

"No,  no  !  Odds  fish,  man,  no  !  But  find  a  way  to  bring 
them  together,  and  your  reward  will  come  later.  I  choose 
you  for  this  little  piece  of  business  because  you  are  in  no  way 
connected  with  the  affair  between  the  French  king  and  me, 
and  because  I  know  you  are  to  be  trusted." 

I  to  be  trusted  !    So  was  Brutus  ! 

"I  shall  do  my  best,  your  Majesty,  and  if  I  fail,  I  shall 
notify  you  at  once,"  I  said,  taking  my  leave. 

I  hastened  to  De  Grammont's  house,  which  at  that  time 
was  over  near  the  Mall,  and  told  the  count  what  the  king 
had  said. 

"Ah,  that  is  good  !"  cried  De  Grammont.  "A  fool,  who 
knows  himself  to  be  a  fool,  is  likely  to  be  wary,  but  one  who 
deems  himself  wise  is  the  easiest  dupe  in  the  world.  I'll 
see  Monsieur  1'Abbe.  Wait." 

De  Grammont  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  saying  that  the 
Abbe  would  go  with  me  to  see  Doctor  Lilly,  and  I  suggested 
that  I  return  for  him  in  three  hours. 


A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY  255 

I  went  back  to  Whitehall,  where  I  found  Frances,  and  told 
her  to  be  at  Lilly's  house  on  the  Strand  within  three  hours, 
to  meet  the  French  king's  ambassador,  and  to  receive  the 
instructions  which  George's  letter  had  intimated  the  Abbe 
would  give.  I  told  her,  also,  that  the  Abbe  was  not  the 
person  we  had  expected  to  see. 

The  evening  before,  she  was  ready  to  die  of  fright  because 
we  believed  that  the  Abbe  was  George  Hamilton,  and  now, 
since  I  had  found  he  was  not,  she  was  ready  to  die  of  dis- 
appointment —  so  she  assured  me. 

At  the  appointed  time,  De  Grammont,  the  Abb6,  and  I 
took  the  count's  barge  and  went  down  to  the  water  stairs 
nearest  Temple  Bar,  where  the  Abbe  and  I  left  De  Grammont 
and  walked  up  through  the  crowded  streets  to  Lilly's  house. 
Owing  to  the  crowded  condition  of  the  street,  the  Abbe  and  I 
found  no  opportunity  to  exchange  words  until  we  were 
before  Lilly's  house. 

Lilly  was  at  home,  I  having  sent  word  of  our  coming,  so 
when  we  knocked,  the  servant  opened  and  directed  us  to 
the  waiting  parlor,  saying  that  the  Doctor  would  soon  come 
down. 

We  started  upstairs,  I  in  the  lead,  the  Abbe  following  ten 
paces  behind.  When  I  entered  the  room,  I  found  Bettina 
and  Frances  sitting  by  the  street  window.  They  came  to 
me  quickly,  and  Frances  explained  Bettina's  presence. 

"I  did  not  like  to  come  here  alone,  so  I  asked  Betty  to 
come  with  me.  She  is  to  be  trusted." 

"You  need  not  assure  me  of  that,"  I  answered,  taking 
Betty's  hand.  "  I  already  know  it.  I  am  glad  you  — 

But  here  I  was  interrupted  by  a  soft  cry  from  Bettina,  and 
by  a  half-smothered  scream  from  Frances,  both  of  whom 
deserted  me  suddenly  and  ran  toward  the  door  I  had  just 
entered.  Turning,  I  saw  Frances  with  her  arms  about  the 
Abbe's  neck,  and  Bettina  clasping  one  of  his  hands.  I 


256          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

thought  the  two  had  gone  mad,  but  when  Bettina  saw  my 
look  of  surprise  and  inquiry,  she  dropped  his  hand,  came  to 
me,  and  asked :  — 

"Did  you  want  us  to  pretend  that  we  did  not  know  him  ? 
If  so,  you  should  have  told  us." 

"But  you  don't  know  him,"  I  declared. 

"Perhaps  I  don't,"  she  returned,  laughing  softly  and 
shrugging  her  shoulders,  "but  evidently  your  cousin  does. 
If  not,  she  should  take  her  arms  from  around  his  neck." 

"But  she  is  mistaken,"  I  insisted. 

"She  seems  to  be  convinced,"  answered  Bettina,  with  a 
curious  little  glance  up  to  me,  half  laughing,  half  inquiring. 
Evidently  she  was  doubtful  whether  I  spoke  in  jest  or  in 
earnest. 

Frances  still  clung  to  the  Abbe,  her  head  resting  on  his 
shoulder,  so  I  started  toward  her,  intending  to  correct  her 
mistake.  Bettina,  seeing  my  purpose,  caught  me  by  the 
arm,  saying :  — 

"  Don't  you  really  know  ?  " 

The  Abbe  turned  his  face  toward  me,  and  when  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  eyes  without  spectacles,  I  recognized  George 
Hamilton,  and  almost  choked  myself  in  smothering  a  cry. 

Frances  turned  to  me,  asking  indignantly,  "Why  did 
not  you  tell  me?" 

"Because  I  did  not  know,"  I  answered,  hardly  able  to 
believe  the  truth. 

But  we  had  important  business  before  us,  and  I  knew 
that  we  should  prepare  for  it  before  Lilly  came  in.  So 
George,  Bettina,  Frances,  and  I  went  to  a  window  at  the 
far  end  of  the  room  to  hold  a  consultation. 

"Since  I  did  not  recognize  you,  perhaps  Lilly  will  not," 
I  suggested.  "I  trust  the  Doctor,  but  perhaps  we  had 
better  leave  him  under  the  impression  that  you  are  Mon- 
sieur 1'Abbe  du  Boise  and  give  no  intimation  of  the  truth." 


A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY  257 

"I  had  not  hoped  that  my  disguise  would  deceive  you, 
Baron  Ned,"  said  George,  "but  since  it  has,  it  is  just  as 
well  that  we  leave  Lilly  in  the  dark  if  we  can." 

"But  he  will  know.  The  stars  will  tell  him,"  suggested 
Bettina,  opening  her  eyes  very  wide. 

"The  stars  will  tell  him  what  he  is  paid  to  hear,"  I  re- 
marked. Then  turning  to  Frances,  I  asked,  "How  is  it 
that  you  were  able  to  recognize  him?" 

"By  his  eyes!"  exclaimed  Frances  and  Bettina  in 
concert. 

"That  gives  me  a  valuable  hint,"  said  George,  hastily 
adjusting  his  colored  spectacles.  "Now,  how  about  it?" 

"I  still  should  know  you,"  answered  Frances. 

"Not  I !"  exclaimed  Bettina. 

Presently  Lilly  came  in,  and  I  presented  him  to  Monsieur 
1'Abbe  du  Boise  and  explained  the  presence  of  Frances  and 
Bettina  by  saying :  — 

"A  friend  of  ours  in  France  has  asked  Mistress  Jennings 
to  render  what  aid  she  can  to  Monsieur  1'Abbe,  and  she  is 
here  at  my  request  to  receive  his  commands." 

"It  is  good!"  exclaimed  Lilly.  "She  has  the  king's 
ear  if  any  one  has,  and  the  ear  is  very  close  to  the  mind. 
What  may  I  do  to  serve  Monsieur  1'Abbe  ?  " 

"If  I  may  see  you  privately  —  the  baron  and  me  —  I 
shall  tell  you  how  you  may  serve  me,"  answered  the 
Abbe. 

The  Abbe  and  I  excused  ourselves  to  Frances  and  Bettina, 
and  went  with  the  Doctor  to  the  room  which  he  called  his 
observatory,  where  we  came  to  the  point  very  quickly :  — 

"I  want  to  buy  Dunkirk  for  my  master  for  the  sum  of 
one  hundred  thousand  pounds,"  said  the  Abbe,  by  way  of 
starting  the  consultation. 

"But  London  has  already  offered  that  sum,"  returned 
Lilly,  "and  stands  ready  to  pay  more." 
s 


258          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"In  payments,"  suggested  the  Abbe. 

"Yes,"  returned  Lilly.  "But  I  see  no  way  of  bringing 
the  king  to  accept  the  sum  you  offer  unless  —  unless  Mis- 
tress Jennings  can  persuade  him." 

"She  may  be  able  to  do  so,"  answered  the  Abbe,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  He  spoke  very  bad  English  through- 
out the  consultation.  "But  the  stars,  too,  may  be  very 
persuasive  with  King  Charles.  To  be  plan,  he  will  prob- 
ably consult  you,  and  if — " 

"I  am  to  see  him  to-night.  That  is  why  your  visit  was 
postponed  until  to-morrow,"  interrupted  Lilly. 

"That  is  as  I  supposed,"  remarked  the  Abbe.  "Now, 
if  I  buy  Dunkirk  for  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  you 
shall  receive  two  thousand  pounds  within  ten  days  after 
signing  the  treaty,  and  Baron  Clyde  will  be  my  surety." 

''Two  thousand  pounds?"  mused  Lilly.  "That  is 
rather  a  small  sum  in  so  great  a  transaction." 

"I  doubt  not  the  purchase  may  be  made  without  the 
help  of  the  stars  if  you  feel  that  two  thousand  pounds  is 
too  small  a  sum  to  be  considered,"  returned  the  Abbe. 

"No,  no,"  said  Lilly.  "I  understand  that  you  wish  me 
to  set  a  figure  and  work  out  the  solution  of  this  affair,  and 
if  I  learn  from  the  stars  that  it  is  to  King  Charles's  interest 
to  accept  your  offer  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  for 
the  city  of  Dunkirk,  I  am  to  receive  — " 

"If  King  Charles  accepts  !"  interrupted  the  Abbe. 

"Ah,  I  see!  Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  returned  Lilly.  "I 
shall  go  to  work  immediately  and  set  my  figure.  Of  course 
I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  learn,  but  I  shall  be  glad  to 
learn  from  the  stars  that  which  will  enable  me  to  advise 
the  king  according  to  your  wishes.  Two  thousand  pounds 
are  two  thousand  pounds,  and  the  word  of  a  king  is  but  a 
breath." 

"What  will  the  king  give  you  for  setting  the  figure  and 


A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY  259 

working  it  out?  What  does  he  usually  pay  you  in  im- 
portant affairs?"  asked  the  Abbe. 

"Ah  —  eh  —  I  —  I  —  In  truth,"  returned  Lilly,  stam- 
mering, "the  king,  who  is  so  liberal  with  his  lady  friends, 
is  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  —  close  with  me,  save  in  promises. 
He  buys  folly  at  the  rate  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
pounds  a  year,  while  he  pays  for  knowledge  with  large 
promises,  and  now  ten  shillings  and  again  five.  On  one 
occasion  I  assured  him  that  he  would  not  fail  if  he  attempted 
to  put  through  a  much-cherished  plan  of  carrying  a  lady 
to  the  country  against  her  will.  He  was  much  pleased  and 
gave  me  a  guinea,  but  borrowed  it  a  week  afterward,  and 
—  and  still  owes  it." 

George  turned  quickly  to  me,  but,  remembering  that  he 
was  the  Abbe  du  Boise,  said  nothing.  But  I  caught  his 
meaning  and,  turning  to  Lilly,  asked :  — 

"Do  you  refer  to  the  occasion  of  a  certain  kidnapping  in 
which  Hamilton  and  I  consulted  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  returned  Lilly. 

"And  you  allowed  it  to  be  carried  out  without  telling 
us?"  I  asked  indignantly. 

"I  did  not  know  who  the  lady  was  till  you  came  to  me 
for  help,"  he  answered. 

"And  you  were  able  to  put  us  on  the  right  track  to  find 
her  because  of  knowledge  gained  from  the  stars  ?  "  I  asked, 
with  a  sharp  note  of  sarcasm. 

"No,  no,"  he  replied  coolly.  "Why  trouble  the  stars 
for  information  that  may  be  had  as  easily  and  more  defi- 
nitely elsewhere?" 

"Then  why  did  you  not  tell  us  the  true  source  of  your 
knowledge?"  I  asked  warmly. 

"Because  I  had  neither  right  nor  desire  to  betray  the 
person  most  actively  engaged  in  the  affair.  To  have  done 
so  might  have  cost  me  my  life.  I  gave  you  the  informa- 


260          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

tion  you  asked,  and  you  saved  the  lady  through  my  help, 
without  which  you  would  not  have  known  where  to  turn. 
You  would  have  been  helpless.  You  paid  me  ten  guineas. 
Were  my  services  worth  the  fee?" 

"Ah,  richly,"  I  returned,  beginning  to  see  the  whole 
matter  of  astrology  in  a  new  light. 

"Then  why  do  you  complain?"  he  asked.  "A  man, 
naturally,  wants  to  know  where  his  meat  comes  from,  but 
knowledge,  like  a  diamond,  is  good  found  anywhere." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Doctor  Lilly,"  I  answered,  waving 
my  hand  as  a  substitute  for  hauling  down  my  colors.  "I 
turn  you  over  to  Monsieur  1'Abbe  once  more." 

"I  think  we  understand  each  other,"  remarked  the 
Abbe.  "You  say  the  king  has  employed  you  to  set  a 
figure,  and  that  you  are  to  take  the  solution  to  him 
to-night?" 

"Monsieur  1'Abbe  is  correct,"  returned  Lilly. 

"I  hope  the  stars  may  see  fit  to  advise  the  king  to  accept 
my  first  offer,  for  it  will  be  the  last,"  said  the  Abbe.  "Pos- 
sibly the  stars  may  show  that  in  case  King  Charles  sells 
Dunkirk  to  London  even  for  a  much  larger  sum  than  I 
shall  offer,  he  may  be  compelled  to  spend  the  money  and 
a  great  deal  more  in  defending  the  city." 

"True,  true,"  agreed  Lilly. 

"Possibly  the  stars  may  indicate  that  King  Louis  loves 
war,"  continued  the  Abbe.  "They  may  show  that  if  King 
Charles  refuses  my  master's  offer,  England  may  be  com- 
pelled to  give  up  Dunkirk  for  nothing,  or  spend  a  vast  deal 
of  money  and  blood  in  defending  it.  If  the  French  king 
lays  siege  to  Dunkirk,  the  English  people  will  force  King 
Charles  to  take  one  of  two  courses  —  defence  or  abdica- 
tion. In  the  latter  case  he  might  lose  his  head,  as  his 
father  did  before  him.  Furthermore,  if  King  Charles 
refuses  my  first  offer,  my  master  will  withdraw,  in  which 


A  PERILOUS   EMBASSY  261 

case  London  also  will  withdraw.  Is  it  not  possible  that 
the  stars  may  tell  you  all  this  ? " 

"The  conditions  you  suggest  are  so  probable  that  one 
hardly  need  ask  confirmation  of  the  stars,  and  so  reasonably 
to  be  expected  are  the  events  you  predict  that,  beyond  ques- 
tion, stellar  revelation  will  be  in  accord  with  your  desires. 
But  the  stars  will  say  what  they  will  say,  and  I  shall  give 
King  Charles  the  truth  from  whatever  source  it  comes," 
said  Lilly,  lifting  his  head  in  righteousness  and  posing  as  the 
embodiment  of  truth. 

"That  is  all  I  can  ask,"  returned  the  Abb6,  rising  to  close 
the  interview. 

"All  exceedingly  reasonable  —  reasonable,"  answered 
Lilly,  bowing. 

We  returned  to  the  parlor,  where  we  found  Frances  and 
Bettina  awaiting  us,  not  patiently,  if  I  could  judge  by  their 
looks.  I  asked  Lilly  to  allow  us  to  occupy  the  room  undis- 
turbed for  an  hour  while  the  Abbe  gave  certain  instructions 
to  Frances,  but  the  Doctor  did  better  for  us.  He  took  us 
to  a  room  enclosed  in  glass  on  the  roof  of  his  house,  where 
we  could  be  by  ourselves  with  the  sun  and  the  sky  overhead, 
and  all  London  beneath  us. 

To  this  day  I  am  not  sure  that  Lilly  did  not  know  Hamil- 
ton, but  if  he  did,  he  concealed  his  knowledge  completely, 
feeling,  doubtless,  that  it  would  be  a  dangerous  bit  of  in- 
formation to  himself  and  of  no  benefit  to  any  one  else.  If 
George  should  be  discovered  by  the  king,  Lilly  could  hon- 
estly disclaim  knowing  him.  If  affairs  turned  to  our  desire, 
the  Doctor  could  lose  nothing  by  his  ignorance  whether 
pretended  or  real.  So  I  doubt  not  he  thanked  us  for  the 
imposture,  if  he  discovered  it. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Bettina,  Frances,  George,  and  I 
were  very  pleased  to  be  together  once  more.  We  spent  a 
delightful  hour  in  Lilly's  observatory,  where  we  made  our 


262          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

plans  for  the  following  day,  which  will  unfold  in  the  order 
of  their  occurrence.  A  great  deal  of  the  time  we  were  all 
talking  at  once,  but  for  some  strange  reason  we  were  all 
silent  when  George  said  laughingly,  though  nervously,  that 
the  French  king  had  sent  word  to  Frances  that  we  would 
pay  her  ten  thousand  pounds  if  George's  mission  proved 
successful. 

Having  anticipated  the  possible  necessity  for  quick  action 
at  the  proper  time,  George  had  brought  with  him  two  copies 
of  a  treaty,  written  in  Latin.  He  brought  also  plenary 
authority  from  the  French  king,  under  the  great  Seal  of 
France,  authorizing  Monsieur  1'Abbe  du  Boise  to  sign,  exe- 
cute, and  deliver  the  treaty  on  the  part  of  France  and  to 
receive  in  return  the  treaty  to  be  executed  by  the  English 
king.  He  also  bore  authority  to  make  and  deliver  to  King 
Charles  a  bill  of  exchange  on  Backwell,  the  goldsmith,  for 
the  purchase  money  of  Dunkirk.  Thus  all  would  be  ready 
for  immediate  conclusion  the  moment  King  Charles  accepted 
the  French  king's  offer. 

That  night  near  the  hour  of  one  o'clock,  Lilly  called  by 
appointment  to  see  me  at  De  Grammont's  house,  coming 
from  Whitehall,  where  he  had  been  closeted  with  the  king 
for  three  or  four  hours,  explaining  to  his  Majesty  the 
message  of  the  stars  as  read  by  the  light  of  two  thousand 
pounds. 

"I  explained  to  his  Majesty,"  said  Lilly,  "that  in  all  my 
calculations  and  observations,  Mars  intruded  with  alarming 
persistency  in  conjunction  with  King  Louis's  star.  I  tried 
to  show  him  that  the  recurrences  of  this  untoward  conjunc- 
tion were  so  rapid  and  constant  as  to  denote  war  at  a  very 
early  date  if  conditions  were  not  affected  at  once  by  the  in- 
tervention of  the  messenger,  Mercury,  whose  sign  fortu- 
nately accompanied  each  unfortuitous  conjunction.  The 
king,  though  pretending  to  be  learned  in  the  noble  art  of 


A  PERILOUS  EMBASSY  263 

astrology,  asked  me  to  translate  my  solution,  and  I  did  so, 
almost  in  the  words  of  Monsieur  1'Abbe  this  afternoon." 

"Thank  you,"  remarked  George. 

"No,  no,  do  not  thank  me,"  said  Lilly,  disclaiming  all 
credit.  "What  Monsieur  said  was  so  reasonable  and  fitted 
so  aptly  to  the  probable  conditions  of  the  future,  read  in  the 
terrestrial  light  of  the  present,  sound  reason,  that  it  was 
hardly  necessary  to  ask  the  stars.  But  in  compliance  with 
the  king's  request,  I  set  my  figure  and  found,  as  usual,  that 
the  revelations  of  the  stars  coincided  with  the  dictates  of 
reason.  It  is  true  the  stars  sometimes  forecast  events  which 
seem  almost  impossible  in  view  of  present  conditions,  but 
the  questioner  of  the  heavens  who  does  not  use  his  reason  to 
help  his  interpretation  of  the  stars  is,  to  say  the  least,  far 
from  wise." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  the  Abbe.  "But  come  to  the  point ! 
What  did  the  king  say  ?  " 

"He  did  not  entirely  accept  the  message  of  the  stars," 
returned  Lilly.  "He  does  not  seem  to  object  to  war.  He 
says  there  is  no  time  when  it  is  as  easy  to  raise  money  from 
the  people  as  in  times  of  war.  I  suggested  that  money  in 
the  nation's  treasury  was  not  in  the  privy  purse,  where  the 
king  most  wants  it.  But  he  said  it  was  only  a  short  jour- 
ney from  the  treasury  to  the  privy  purse,  and  —  well,  I 
agreed  with  him.  If  you  want  to  convert  a  vain,  stubborn 
fool  to  your  way  of  thinking,  don't  let  him  know  what  your 
way  is." 

"So  the  stars  have  failed  ?"  asked  the  Abbe. 

"No,"  returned  Lilly,  "they  have  put  the  king  to  think- 
ing, but  more,  they  have  sowed  the  seeds  of  fear,  a  plant 
which  grows  rapidly  in  a  coward's  heart  by  night." 

"But  not  rapidly  enough  to  suit  our  purposes,  I  fear," 
returned  the  Abbe. 

"Yes,"  insisted  Lilly.     "If  the  king's  inclination  can  be 


264          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

changed,  fear  will  sweep  aside  all  other  considerations  in  a 
moment,  and  he  will  accept  the  one  hundred  thousand  ' 
pounds  which  you  will  offer  to-morrow  morning.  But  in 
case  the  king  does  conclude  to  accept  the  French  king's 
offer,  the  iron  will  at  once  take  on  a  white  heat,  and  —  well, 
iron  remains  at  white  heat  only  a  short  time.  You  must  be 
ready  to  act  quickly  when  the  proper  moment  comes,  or 
London  will  spring  between  you  and  the  king." 

"I  shall  be  ready,"  returned  the  Abbe.  "The  king  shall 
be  inclined  to  our  proposition  before  another  day  is  past." 

"Shall  I  tell  you  what  the  stars  predict  concerning  the 
signing  of  the  treaty  ?  "  asked  Lilly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  answered  eagerly. 

"I  have  found  Venus  in  conjunction  with — "  began 
Lilly. 

"Oh,  damn  the  stars  !"  cried  the  Abbe,  most  uncanoni- 
cally.  "  Tell  me  what  you  think  about  it ! " 

"The  stars  tell  me  that  the  treaty  will  be  signed  to-mor- 
row night  —  that  is,  to-night,  this  being  the  early  morning," 
answered  the  Doctor,  persistently  maintaining  his  attitude 
of  stellar  interpreter. 

"  Very  well.  Good  night,  Doctor,"  said  the  Abbe.  "And 
may  the  shadow  of  your  discretion  never  grow  less." 

A  moment  later  I  conducted  Lilly  to  the  door,  and  when  I 
returned  to  De  Grammont,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word 
during  the  entire  interview,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
said :  — 

"Sacrament !  What  a  wise  man  a  fool  may  be  !  It  is  to 
admire  !" 

"I  doubt  if  any  man  is  beneficially  wise  unless  he  be  in 
part  a  fool,"  said  the  Abbe,  and  I  closed  the  symposium  by 
remarking :  — 

"Folly  tinctures  wisdom  with  common  sense,  illumines  it 
with  imagination,  and  gives  it  everyday  usefulness.  But 


A  PERILESS  EMBASSY  265 

best  of  all,  it  helps  a  man  to  understand  the  motives  of  other 
fools  who  constitute  the  bulk  of  mankind." 

"Ah,  baron,"  said  De  Grammont,  yawning.  "It  is  all 
doubtless  true.  Who  would  have  expected  to  find  so  much 
cynical  wisdom  in  an  Englishman  ?  But  let  us  to  bed  ! " 

Hamilton  and  I  were  up  by  five  o'clock  the  next  morning, 
in  consultation.  He  was  for  dropping  the  matter  in  so  far 
as  it  involved  Frances,  but  I  insisted  that  while  it  was  a  dis- 
agreeable task  for  her,  she  was  wise  with  a  woman's  wisdom, 
calm  wich  a  woman's  calmness,  and  bold  with  a  woman's 
boldness,  which  knows  no  equal  when  the  motive  springs 
from  the  heart  rather  than  the  head. 

We  discussed  the  matter  in  all  its  phases,  and  then  I  went 
to  the  palace  to  see  Frances.  When  she  arose,  I  was  waiting 
to  tell  her  that  the  Abbe  would  see  the  king  at  ten  o'clock 
and  to  ask  her  to  wait  in  the  anteroom  of  the  duchess's 
parlor.  If  Charles  accepted  the  French  king's  offer,  I 
should  pass  by  her  wearing  my  hat,  and  she  would  know  that 
her  help  would  not  be  needed.  If  the  king  refused,  I  should 
carry  my  hat  in  my  hand,  and  she  could  take  her  own  course 
with  Charles. 

"Do  you  fear?"  I  asked,  being  myself  very  much  afraid, 
for  we  were  dealing  with  an  absolute  monarch,  devoid  of 
conscience,  devoid  of  caution  save  when  prompted  by 
cowardice,  but  plenteously  imbued  with  venom  in  his  heart 
and  all  things  evil  in  his  soul. 

"I  fear  ?"  cried  Frances,  tossing  her  head  defiantly. 

I  thought  surely  no  woman  ever  was  as  beautiful  as  this 
one,  in  whose  heart  there  was  no  fear,  no  doubt  of  self,  no 
faltering  in  the  face  of  danger.  I  asked  her  to  tell  me  of  her 
plans,  and  she  answered  :  — 

"I  have  no  plan  save  to  see  the  king.  Then  the  plans 
will  come  of  themselves." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY 

GEORGE  went  to  the  Shield  Gallery  in  Whitehall  at 
ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  where  he  found  his 
Majesty,  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  a  half  score  of 
the  king's  creatures,  including  Berkeley,  Wentworth,  Crofts, 
Jermyn,  and  others  of  like  quality. 

These  were  the  men  with  whom  George  had  to  deal. 
He  was  known  intimately  to  each  of  them,  and  was  hated 
most  heartily  by  all  save  the  Chancellor. 

When  George  entered  the  Gallery,  the  king  took  his 
seat  in  a  great  chair  of  state  on  a  dais  at  one  end  of  the 
room,  while  his  counsellors  ranged  themselves  on  either 
side.  I,  with  a  dozen  other  gentlemen,  had  been  com- 
manded to  be  present,  not  as  advisers,  but  as  attendants 
on  the  king  to  give  dignity  to  the  occasion. 

George,  having  been  sent  to  England  secretly,  had 
brought  no  retinue,  since  it  was  desired  by  every  one  con- 
nected with  the  affair  that  his  presence  should  attract  as 
little  attention  as  possible  and  thus  avoid  alarming  Lon- 
don. When  George  went  to  Whitehall,  he  was  accom- 
panied only  by  De  Grammont  and  a  gentleman  of  the 
count's  household. 

While  George  knelt  before  his  Majesty,  asking  leave  to 
speak  for  the  French  king,  his  master,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  strange  contiguity  of  antagonisms  so  fre- 
quently observed  in  one's  journey  through  this  life,  nor 

266 


FRANCES   DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        267 

could  I  help  wondering  what  would  be  the  fate  of  the  bold 
man  kneeling  before  the  king  if  his  Majesty  could  but  see 
through  the  Abb6's  disguise. 

But  I  had  little  time  for  reflection,  since  George  was  not 
one  who  allowed  matters  to  drag.  On  receiving  permis- 
sion to  speak,  he  rose  and  went  to  the  point  at  once  in 
badly  broken  English,  which  I  shall  not  try  to  reproduce. 

"I  shall  not  take  up  your  Majesty's  time  with  idle 
words,"  said  the  Abbe,  glancing  at  a  written  memorandum 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  "My  master,  King  Louis, 
sends  greeting  to  his  royal  brother,  and  hopes  that  no 
cause  of  difference  may  ever  arise  to  darken  the  blue  sky 
of  peace  that  now  hangs  over  two  kings,  potent  as  are 
your  Majesty  and  my  master,  and  two  nations,  happy, 
rich,  and  powerful  as  are  the  noble  realms  of  France  and 
England.  Believing  the  possession  by  either  monarch  of 
cities  or  territory  within  the  other's  realm  to  be  a  constant 
menace  to  this  much-desired  peace  and  amity,  my  master, 
the  king  of  France,  sends  me,  his  humble  ambassador, 
with  plenary  authority,  the  instrument  of  which  now  lies 
with  your  Majesty's  noble  Lord  Chancellor,  to  make  offer 
to  your  Majesty  of  the  great  sum  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  for  the  good  city  of  Dunkirk,  which  is  on 
territory  contiguous  to  my  master's  domain." 

"The  great  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds!" 
demanded  Charles,  contemptuously.  "Does  your  master 
consider  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  great  sum  to  pay 
for  so  great  a  city  as  Dunkirk?" 

"It  is  a  great  sum  to  pay,  your  Majesty,"  returned  the 
Abbe,  with  meekness  in  his  manner,  but  boldness  in  his 
words,  "when  it  is  considered  that  the  king  of  France 
might  have  the  city  of  Dunkirk  for  the  mere  taking,  did 
he  not  love  your  Majesty." 

"Might  have  it  for  the  mere  taking,  say  you?"    cried 


268  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

Charles,  with  a  flash  of  imitation  fire.  "Odds  fish,  man  ! 
What  do  you  suppose  we  should  be  doing  while  he  was 
taking  it?" 

"Sending  ships  across  the  Channel  at  a  great  cost  in 
money  and  life  to  your  people,  your  Majesty,"  coolly, 
though  meekly,  answered  the  Abbe. 

"Of  that  my  people  will  not  complain,"  answered  Charles, 
still  burning  a  pinch  of  red  powder.  "  Their  blood  and 
their  gold  will  be  given  gladly  to  defend  my  possessions 
abroad.  My  people  are  brave  and  do  not  fear  death  for 
the  sake  of  their  king,  I  would  have  you  to  know,  Sir 
Abbe." 

"Noble  praise,  your  Majesty,  and  beautiful  in  the  mouth 
of  a  king  who  stands  ready  to  march  at  the  head  of  his 
own  army,  and  to  help  fight  the  good  fight  of  his  own 
cause,"  returned  the  Abbe,  bowing  with  deep  humility. 

"Sir,  your  words  are  bold  and  are  in  no  way  mitigated 
by  your  humble  mien!"  exclaimed  the  king.  "If  you 
have  no  other  offer  to  make,  the  audience  will  end,  at 
least  for  the  present." 

"May  I  crave  one  moment  more?"  asked  the  Abbe. 

"Yes,  but  be  brief,"  returned  the  king. 

"My  instructions,  your  Majesty,  are  to  leave  London 
not  later  than  sunrise  on  the  day  after  making  my  king's 
offer.  That  will  be  to-morrow  morning,  when  I  shall 
hasten  back  to  Paris,  whence  no  other  messenger  will  come. 
Twenty  thousand  troops  are  now  within  three  hours' 
march  of  Dunkirk.  Your  Majesty's  ships  cannot  reach 
the  city  in  time  to  save  it.  I  beg  to  say  that  I  have  de- 
livered the  entire  message  intrusted  to  me  by  my  august 
master,  and  therefore  crave  your  royal  permission  to  with- 
draw." 

The  king  lifted  his  right  hand  in  assent,  and  the  Abbe 
moved  backward,  bowing  himself  from  the  room.  De 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        269 

Grammont,  who  had  come  with  him,  met  him  at  the  door, 
and  immediately  they  went  to  the  count's  house.  When 
they  were  gone,  the  king  dismissed  all  save  his  counsellors, 
and  I  being  at  liberty  to  leave,  hastened  to  her  Grace's 
anteroom.  As  I  passed  the  door,  my  hat  in  my  hand,  I 
bowed  to  Frances,  who  was  watching  me  intently.  She 
smiled,  glanced  significantly  toward  my  hat,  nodded  her 
head  to  let  me  know  that  she  understood,  and  I  passed  by, 
glad  that  she  had  the  courage  which  I  so  sadly  lacked. 

Evidently  Frances  lost  no  time  in  doing  her  part  with 
the  king,  for  two  hours  later  a  page  came  to  me  in  the 
Wardrobe,  saying  that  the  king  wished  to  see  me  imme- 
diately. I  made  all  possible  haste,  and  when  I  entered 
the  king's  closet,  he  said :  — 

"Close  the  door,  Clyde,"  but  seemed  unable  for  the 
moment  to  say  more. 

He  could  not  hide  his  excitement,  and  presently  began 
telling  me  in  a  peremptory  manner  that  he  had  a  very 
delicate  piece  of  business  for  my  hands.  He  did  not  seem 
to  feel  sure  of  his  ground,  and  spoke  with  a  bravado  alto- 
gether unnecessary,  as  though  he  would  say  I  should  do 
his  will  whether  it  suited  me  or  not,  rather  than  in  words 
of  respectful  command.  I  could  see  easily  that  his  bravado 
was  assumed  for  the  purpose  of  forestalling  any  objection 
on  my  part.  Of  course  he  did  not  suspect  for  one  moment 
that  I  surmised  what  he  wanted,  or  his  words  would  have 
been :  "Odds  fish  !  To  the  Tower  with  him  !" 

After  several  stammering  efforts,  he  began:  "I  want 
you  to  see  Du  Boise,  whom  you  will  find  at  De  Grammont's 
house,  and  tell  him  that  I  accept  the  offer  he  made  this 
morning.  I  understand  he  brings  the  treaties  from  France 
already  written.  At  eight  o'clock  this  evening  they  are  to 
be  placed  in  the  hands  of  your  cousin,  Mistress  Jennings, 
together  with  the  bill  drawn  on  Backwell  of  Lombard 


270         THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Street,  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds. 
Deliver  my  message  immediately  and  secretly.  Let  no  one 
know  that  I  have  spoken  to  you  on  the  subject.  After 
you  have  seen  Du  Boise,  go  to  Mistress  Jennings  and  give 
her  word  from  the  Abbe  designating  where  and  at  what 
hour  she  is  to  receive  the  documents.  I  suggest  eight 
o'clock,  that  they  may  not  be  in  her  possession  too  long. 
But  wait  a  moment ! " 

He  went  to  a  writing  desk  standing  near  the  river  win- 
dow, beckoned  to  me,  and  continued  excitedly,  "Sit  here 
and  write  at  my  dictation." 

I  sat  down  before  the  desk,  took  a  quill,  and  awaited  the 
king's  pleasure.  After  a  moment's  thought  he  dictated  as 
follows :  — 

"To  MONSIEUR  L'ABBE  DU  BOISE, 

"Ambassador  Extraordinary  from  his  Majesty, 
"King  Louis  of  France : 

"Out  of  love  for  my  royal  brother,  King  Louis,  and  for 
the  purpose  of  maintaining  the  peace  and  amity  now  exist- 
ing between  the  glorious  realms  of  England  and  France,  I 
accept  his  Majesty's  offer  to  purchase  the  city  of  Dunkirk, 
communicated  to  me  at  this  morning's  audience.  You  will 
therefore  place  in  the  hands  of  the  bearer,  Baron  Clyde, 
two  copies  of  a  treaty  consummating  this  transaction 
which  I  understand  you  have  already  written  out.  With 
said  copies  you  will  also  place  a  bill  drawn  in  the  sum  of 
one  hundred  thousand  pounds  on  one,  Edward  Backwell, 
goldsmith,  Lombard  Street,  with  whom  I  am  told  the  funds 
lie,  and  for  which  this  writing  shall  be  your  full  acquittance. 

"The  treaties  shall  be  fully  executed  by  you  on  the 
part  of  your  master,  hi  accordance  with  the  terms  of  your 
instrument  of  authority  now  resting  with  my  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. When  said  treaties  and  said  bill  come  to  me,  the 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        271 

treaties  will  be  signed,  and  the  copy  intended  for  your 
master  will  be  returned  to  you  this  evening  so  that  you 
may  carry  out  your  instructions  by  leaving  at  dawn  to- 
morrow morning.  To  the  which  I  give  my  reluctant  con- 
sent and  request  that  you  leave  England  without  further 
ceremony,  believing  that  your  duty  to  your  master  mounts 
superior  to  the  mere  observation  of  courtly  usage  in  formal 
leave-taking. 

"  Signed  by  the  king's  own  hand, 

"CHARLES  R." 

"You  will  see  your  cousin  immediately  after  your  con- 
sultation with  Du  Boise,  and  arrange  to  deliver  the  docu- 
ments to  her  hands  privately  at  the  hour  of  eight  o'clock." 

"I  beg  your  Majesty's  indulgence  for  one  question,"  I 
said,  assuming  as  well  as  I  could  a  reluctant  manner. 

"Yes,  yes,  but  be  quick,"  returned  the  king. 

"It  is  this,"  I  continued  stammeringly.  "Is  my  cousin 
to  deliver  the  documents  to  you  after  the  hour  of  eight 
o'clock?" 

"That  is  no  affair  of  yours,  and  your  question  is  imper- 
tinent," answered  the  king.  "Obey  my  commands  and 
keep  your  lips  sealed,  if  you  would  oblige  your  king,  save 
trouble  to  yourself,  and  perhaps  be  rewarded.  Hear  me, 
Clyde !  I  will  brook  no  interference  in  this  matter.  Do 
you  fully  understand?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty.  To  obey  the  king's  command  is 
the  highest  duty  I  know,"  I  answered,  hanging  my  head. 

"Ah,  that  is  better.  Now  you  may  go,"  said  the  king, 
motioning  his  hand  toward  the  door. 

Frances  had  been  expeditious  in  doing  her  part,  and  I  was 
wondering  what  she  had  done  to  work  so  great  a  change  in 
the  king's  mind  in  so  short  a  time.  So  I  made  all  haste  to 
see  Du  Boise  in  order  that  I  might  the  sooner  see  my  cousin 


272    THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

and  question  her.  I  found  Hamilton  downcast,  but  when  I 
gave  him  the  king's  letter,  his  gloom  turned  to  anger. 

"No,  no  !"  he  cried,  springing  from  his  chair.  " Never  ! 
Never  !  Frances  is  buying  the  king's  complaisance,  God 
knows  at  what  price  !  It  shall  not  be  !  The  cur !  The 
coward  !  I'll  kill  him  before  the  hour  arrives  ! " 

"Listen  to  me,  George,"  I  insisted,  "and  for  once  in  your 
life,  don't  be  a  fool.  You  will  ruin  us  all  if  you  lose  your 
head  at  the  moment  when  success  is  waiting  for  us.  You, 
yourself,  suggested  this  plan,  and,  thanks  to  my  cousin's 
courage,  it  is  working  out  beautifully.  I  don't  know  what 
she  has  to  propose,  nor  what  she  is  going  to  do.  I  know 
nothing  of  her  plans,  but  I  trust  her.  Can't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  trust  her,"  he  replied,  growing  more  calm. 
"But  I  do  not  trust  him.  She  will  go  to  him  alone,  expect- 
ing, doubtless,  to  escape,  but  she  does  not  know  the  risk  she 
is  running." 

"Do  not  fear  for  her,"  I  answered  assuringly.  "She 
will  be  prepared  to  defend  herself.  Make  all  things  ready, 
and  I'll  go  to  learn  of  Frances's  plans.  You  may  be  sure 
she  will  provide  some  way  for  her  own  protection.  When  a 
woman  of  brains  sets  out  to  hoodwink  a  man,  he  usually  gets 
what  he  deserves,  even  though  he  be  an  absolute  king." 

"Well,  be  off,  and  back  again  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment,"  said  George,  resigning  himself,  under  compul- 
sion, to  the  hard  conditions  the  situation  imposed. 

When  I  left  Hamilton,  I  hastened  to  Frances  and  found  her 
expecting  me.  She  told  me  her  story  in  a  few  words  :  — 

"The  treaty  and  the  bill  of  exchange,  I  believe  you  call  it, 
are  to  be  placed  in  my  hands  to-night  at  eight  o'clock,"  she 
said.  "I  am  trembling  now,  but  I  shall  be  calm  when  the 
time  comes.  I  am  to  take  the  documents  to  the  king's 
closet  at  nine  o'clock,  and  am  to  enter  by  way  of  the  privy 
stairs  from  the  river." 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        273 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  I  answered,  and  then  I  told  her 
briefly  of  the  king's  orders. 

"You  to  bring  me  the  papers !"  she  exclaimed,  laughing 
softly. 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  "It  completes  the  jest,  if  it  prove  to 
be  one.  But  tell  me,  what  do  you  propose  to  do  when  you 
go  to  the  king's  closet  ?  " 

"You  see  it  was  this  way,"  she  began,  sitting  down  and 
smoothing  out  her  skirts  ;  "I  so  arranged  it  that  I  met  his 
Majesty  soon  after  I  saw  you  pass  with  your  hat  in  your 
hand.  He  was  ready  enough  to  take  me  for  a  walk  in  the 
garden,  and  when  he  fell  under  the  influence  of  the  sun  and 
the  flowers,  he  began,  as  usual,  to  protest  his  love.  I  gave 
him  full  rein,  —  full  rein,  Baron  Ned,  —  and  after  he  had 
talked  and  protested  a  great  deal,  I  told  him  that  he  might 
prove  his  regard  for  me  if  he  would.  He  asked  me  in  what 
manner,  and  said  that  he  would  do  whatever  I  asked. 

"'It  is  this,  your  Majesty,'  I  answered  hesitatingly. 
'  By  accident  I  met  the  Abbe  du  Boise  at  Lilly's  house  yester- 
day. It  seems  he  had  heard  of  the  kind  friendship  your 
Majesty  has  shown  me,  and  doubtless  hoping  to  use  me, 
offered  me  ten  thousand  pounds  if  I  succeeded  in  inducing 
your  Majesty  to  accept  the  French  king's  offer  for  the  city 
of  Dunkirk.  Ever  since  my  interview  with  him,  I  have  been 
trying  to  see  your  Majesty,  hoping  that  you  might  find  the 
information  useful,  and  desiring  your  Majesty  to  know  that 
I  was  to  receive  the  money  in  case  you  accepted,  else  I  might 
seem  false  to  my  king."3 

I  laughed  and  said :  "  I  knew  you  would  be  able  to  wheedle 
him.  A  little  woman  with  a  big  motive  is  like  faith,  in  that 
she  can  move  mountains." 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  easy  enough,"  she  answered.  "  He  took 
my  hand,  and  I  permitted  him  to  hold  it  for  a  moment,  then 
withdrew  it,  you  know,  as  though  impelled  by  modesty. 


274          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

After  duly  hanging  my  head  and  casting  down  my  eyes  in  a 
very  spasm  of  shyness,  I  told  the  king  that  I  hoped  he  would 
accept  the  French  king's  offer,  and  reminded  him  that  it 
might  avert  the  terrible  consequences  of  war,  in  addition 
to  putting  ten  thousand  pounds  in  my  poor  empty  little 
purse.  He  said  he  would  put  the  ten  thousand  there  for  me, 
but  I  refused,  saying  that  I  had  never  before  made  a  request 
of  him,  and  that  if  he  did  not  see  fit  to  grant  this,  I  should 
never  make  another,  but  should  leave  Whitehall  at  once." 

"Ah  !  the  little  woman  with  a  big  motive  pouts  if  the 
mountain  moves  too  slowly.  I  should  like  to  have  heard 
you  talking  to  him,"  I  said. 

"And  perhaps  you  would  have  spoiled  it  all,"  she  an- 
swered. "We  walked  down  the  path  for  perhaps  three  or 
four  minutes,  but  at  length  the  king  spoke,  stammeringly, 
and  said  that  if  I  would  bring  the  treaty  to  his  closet  this 
evening  at  nine  o'clock,  he  would  sign  it." 

"The  dog  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"After  a  long  pause,  I  answered  hesitatingly,  telling  him 
that  I  could  not  accede  to  his  request,  and  that  I  withdrew 
my  petition,  craving  permission  to  leave  Whitehall  to-mor- 
row. Thereupon  he  fell  into  an  ecstasy  of  entreaty,  and 
when  we  parted  he  was  very  happy,  for  I  had  promised  to 
take  the  documents  to  him  at  nine  o'clock.  He  said  I  was 
to  come  to  the  privy  stairs  leading  from  the  river  to  his  closet 
and  go  up  to  him  for  his  signature  and  seal,  when  he  would 
execute  the  treaty  immediately  and  send  it  by  a  trusted 
messenger  to  the  Abbe  du  Boise." 

"Ah,  but  how  will  you  get  away  from  the  closet?"  I 
asked. 

"If  he  will  permit  me  to  be  the  messenger,  I  can  easily 
escape,  but  for  fear  he  will  not,  you  and  George  shall  act 
as  my  watermen.  Have  a  boat  waiting  for  me  near  the 
garden  stairs  at  nine  o'clock,  and  we'll  go  by  river  to  the 


FRANCES   DELIVERS  THE  TREATY         275 

king's  private  stairs.  I'll  go  by  myself  to  his  closet  and  will 
come  back  to  you  by  some  means  with  the  signed  treaty. 
And,  Baron  Ned,  have  Betty  with  you.  A  woman  is  always 
braver  with  a  woman  alongside,  and  Betty  always  brings 
us  good  luck.  Then,  too,  she  can  steer  the  boat ;  she  knows 
the  river  as  she  knows  her  father's  house.  Remember,  nine 
o'clock,  and  be  sure  that  Betty  is  with  you." 

I  went  back  to  George,  and  when  I  told  him  of  Frances's 
plan,  he  said :  — 

"If  she  does  not  return  from  the  king's  closet  as  soon  as 
we  shall  have  reason  to  expect  her,  we'll  fetch  her  and  make  a 
page  of  history  by  leaving  a  dead  king." 

"In  which  case  the  English  people  would  hang  us  and 
then  bless  us.  It  is  their  fashion.  We  should  be  as  im- 
mortal as  Guy  Fawkes,"  I  answered,  laughing  to  keep 
my  courage  up. 

George  stood  in  revery  for  a  moment  and  answered  as  if 
he  were  speaking  to  himself :  — 

"But  what  will  happen  if  we  are  overpowered  in  the  king's 
closet  ?  He  always  keeps  a  ruffian  guard  in  his  ante-cham- 
ber." 

"  In  that  sad  case,  Frances  must  kill  herself  and  we  shall 
die  fighting  unless  we  preferred  Tyburn  Hill  a  day  or  two 
later,"  I  answered.  "It  is  all  as  plain  as  day.  Why  do 
you  not  forget  that  failure  is  possible?  I  have  never 
known  you  to  stand  in  doubt ;  why  do  it  now  on  the  eve 
of  victory?" 

"Frances  !  Frances  !  Frances  !  She  is  why  I  stand  in 
doubt.  My  own  life  is  not  worth  a  farthing,  but  I  have  no 
right  to  bring  her  into  this  frightful  peril." 

"She  has  no  fear,  and  the  sooner  you  drive  it  out  of  your 
heart  the  better  it  will  be  for  our  cause." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,  Baron  Ned,"  he  responded  with 
a  sigh  ;  "if  we  go  at  this  without  fear  or  doubt  we  can't  fail. 


276          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

Go  ahead,  my  friend.  May  God  forgive  us  if  we  are  wrong 
and  help  us  in  any  case."  And  I  left  him  hurriedly,  lest 
I  should  be  infected  with  his  deadly  fear. 

I  next  saw  Betty,  much  to  my  delight,  and  of  course  she 
was  eager  to  help  us. 

"Know  the  river  ?"  she  exclaimed,  in  answer  to  my  ques- 
tion. "  I  know  it  as  well  as  I  know  Gracious  Street.  I  have 
shot  the  arches  of  London  Bridge  with  the  spring  tide  going 
out,  and  there  is  many  a  waterman  who  would  not  dare  try 
it.  If  need  be,  I'll  take  you  through  the  middle  arch, 
where  the  flambeau  hangs,  and  land  you  at  Deptford  or 
Sheerness,  or  Holland,  I  care  not  which."  So  there  was  no 
fear  in  her  heart.  If  courage  was  the  touchstone  of  fortune, 
we  were  sure  to  win,  for  there  was  no  fear  in  any  heart  save 
George's,  and  ordinarily  he  was  the  bravest  of  us  all. 

When  all  arrangements  were  made,  even  to  engaging  a 
small  boat,  which  was  to  wait  for  us  at  Westminster  stairs, 
I  took  to  my  bed  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  At  six  o'clock  I 
received  the  treaties  and  the  bill  of  exchange  from  Hamilton 
and  delivered  them  to  Frances.  Then  I  went  to  fetch 
Bettina. 

Grammont  had  offered  to  go  with  us,  when  we  explained 
what  we  were  to  do  and  the  danger  in  doing  it,  and  we  were 
glad  to  have  him  and  his  sword,  for  we  might  find  ourselves 
in  straits  where  we  should  need  both.  He  and  Hamilton 
were  to  meet  me  at  the  head  of  King's  Street.  Each  of 
us  was  to  carry  a  long  sword  and  to  have  a  pistol,  charged 
and  primed,  in  his  belt. 

After  leaving  the  parchments  with  Frances,  I  hastened 
to  bring  Betty  up  to  Whitehall,  and,  shortly  after  eight 
o'clock,  met  Du  Boise  and  De  Grammont  at  King's  Street 
arch,  all  of  us  wearing  full  vizards. 

We  walked  down  to  the  boat,  De  Grammont  frequently 
taking  notice  of  Bettina,  for,  despite  her  full  vizard  and  an 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY    277 

enveloping  cloak,  she  was  far  too  attractive  not  to  rivet  his 
attention. 

When  we  reached  Westminster  stairs,  we  found  the  boat 
awaiting  us.  We  did  not  want  the  watermen  to  go  with  us, 
so  I  bought  the  boat  and  dismissed  them. 

We  entered  the  boat,  and  when  Bettina  took  the  stern 
oar,  De  Grammont  asked  :  — 

"Who  is  she  —  the  lady  on  the  stern  thwart?  Can  she 
steer  the  boat?  Does  she  know  the  river?" 

"Yes,  to  all  of  your  questions,  count,"  I  answered. 

"'Yes'  doesn't  answer  the  first  question,"  he  returned. 

"It  isn't  to  be  answered,"  I  replied  curtly,  and  he  re- 
turned with  an  apologetic  "Pardon  !" 

Just  before  nine  o'clock  we  took  Frances  aboard  at  White- 
hall Garden  Stairs  and  drifted  slowly  down  to  the  king's 
privy  stairs,  from  which  the  narrow  flight  of  steps  rose  to 
the  king's  closet  in  the  story  above. 

When  we  drew  up  at  the  privy  stairs,  Frances  stepped  out 
of  the  boat  to  the  landing  and  whispered :  — 

"I  shall  arrange  in  some  way  to  return,  just  as  soon  as 
the  king  signs  the  treaty,  but  if  you  hear  me  scream,  come 
to  my  rescue.  I  am  prepared  to  defend  myself,  and  shall 
give  the  signal  only  when  I  must." 

After  climbing  the  narrow  steps,  she  entered  the  king's 
closet  and  found  him  alone.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  she 
caught  the  sound  of  heavy  steps  in  the  adjoining  room  and 
heard  the  clang  of  steel  on  a  bare  oak  floor.  This  demon- 
stration was  made,  I  suppose,  by  the  king's  order,  for  the 
purpose  of  intimidating  Frances  lest  she  prove  rebellious. 

In  response  to  her  frightened  look  of  inquiry,  the  king 
said,  "Only  a  half  dozen  troopers  whom  I  always  keep  in 
my  anteroom  to  be  at  hand  if  needed." 

"A  wise  precaution,  your  Majesty,"  returned  Frances, 
bringing  herself  together  as  quickly  as  possible.  "Here  are 


278          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

the  copies  of  the  treaty,  your  Majesty,  and  here  is  the  bill 
on  Backwell.  The  Abbe  du  Boise  instructed  me  to  ask 
your  Majesty  to  sign  his  copy  of  the  treaty  immediately 
and  return  it  to  him.  He  waits  in  a  boat  at  the  foot  of 
the  privy  stairs,  and  is  anxious  to  go  down  the  river  to  his 
ship  before  the  tide  turns." 

" Waits  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs?"  exclaimed  the  king. 
"Odds  fish!  What  is  he  doing  there?  But  it  shall  be 
done  at  once.  I  had  the  Great  Seal  brought  to  me,  so  that 
I  might  fully  execute  the  treaty  without  delay.  I  sup- 
posed the  Abbe  would  desire  its  immediate  return  as  soon 
as  the  money  was  paid." 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,"  answered  Frances,  growing  short 
of  breath  from  excitement,  "he  is  waiting  below  for  it." 

The  king  sat  down  at  his  desk,  signed  the  treaty,  affixed 
the  Great  Seal,  returned  the  parchment  to  its  envelope, 
and,  turning  to  Frances,  said :  — 

"Now,  the  first  kiss,  my  beauty  !" 

"Not  now,  your  Majesty.  Please  wait  till  I  return," 
she  answered,  taking  the  treaty  from  the  king's  hand  with- 
out his  leave.  "I  do  not  want  to  disarrange  my  vizard 
till  after  I  have  returned  the  parchment  to  the  Abbe.  I 
fear  the  watermen  will  recognize  me." 

"Who  is  in  the  boat  with  the  Abbe  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"His  servant,  a  French  gentleman,  and  two  watermen. 
He  insisted  on  bringing  me,  reluctant,  doubtless  to  trust  me 
with  the  parchments  and  the  bill,"  she  answered,  lying 
with  the  ease  of  a  Lombard  Street  hosier. 

But  the  king,  growing  suspicious  because  of  her  haste, 
caught  her  by  the  arm,  saying:  "You  remain  here.  I'll 
return  the  treaty." 

She  drew  her  arm  from  the  king's  grasp  and  started  so 
hurriedly  toward  the  door  that  the  king  took  alarm  and 
followed  her,  crying  out :  — 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        279 

"I  tell  you  I'll  send  the  packet  by  other  hands.  You 
remain  here." 

She  did  not  stop,  so  he  caught  her  again  by  the  arm, 
and  spoke  sharply:  "You  are  to  remain  with  me.  Do 
you  hear?  I'm  not  to  be  played  with.  I'll  send  the 
packet — " 

But  she  broke  from  his  grasp,  hastily  opened  the  door, 
and  found  herself  not  at  the  head  of  the  privy  stairs,  but 
in  the  king's  anteroom,  surrounded  by  a  half  dozen  men 
in  armor  one  of  whom  attempted  to  seize  her.  Instantly 
she  sprang  back  to  the  king's  closet,  screaming,  not  as  a 
signal  to  us,  for  she  had  forgotten  our  agreement  .in  that 
respect,  but  in  genuine  fright. 

Her  screams  brought  George,  De  Grammont,  and  myself 
to  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  less  time  than  one 
could  count  ten.  We  drew  our  swords,  and  I  tried  to  open 
the  door,  but  found  it  locked. 

"The  oars!  The  heavy  oars!"  whispered  De  Gram- 
mont. 

I  ran  down  the  stairs  to  the  boat  and  was  about  to  ask 
Bettina  to  hand  me  the  oars,  when  she,  anticipating  me, 
whispered :  — 

"I  heard  some  one  call  for  the  oars,  so  I  threw  them 
out.  There  they  are  !" 

There  they  were,  true  enough,  halfway  up  the  water 
stairs,  ready  for  my  hand,  because  of  Betty's  quickness. 

In  less  than  ten  seconds  I  was  at  the  top  of  the  stairs 
again,  and  within  twenty  seconds  more  we  had  battered 
down  the  door  with  our  heavy  ash  oars.  In  the  king's 
closet  we  found  Frances,  surrounded  by  men  at  arms,  and 
the  king  crouching  in  a  corner,  barricaded  by  small  pieces 
of  furniture. 

George  fired  his  pistol,  and  one  of  the  six  men  fell,  where- 
upon several  pistol  shots  were  fired,  filling  the  small  room 


280          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

with  powder  smoke,  but  injuring  no  one  so  far  as  we  knew. 
De  Grammont  found  an  opening  in  another  man's  armor, 
and  four  stood  between  us  and  Frances.  Then  the  real 
fight  began  —  four  against  three.  This  would  have  been 
heavy  odds  in  an  open  field,  but  it  was  not  so  formidable 
in  a  small  room  almost  dark  with  smoke.  Above  all,  the 
troopers  were  fighting  for  pay ;  we  were  fighting  for  life. 

The  four  men  charged  us  fiercely,  and  while  we  were 
fighting  just  inside  the  room,  Frances  worked  her  way 
from  behind  our  antagonists  toward  the  battered  door  and 
was  about  to  make  her  escape  when  one  of  the  king's  men 
struck  her  a  cowardly  blow  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and 
she  fell  to  the  floor  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"You  and  Hamilton  take  her  to  the  boat,"  cried  De 
Grammont,  speaking  to  me,  but  continuing  to  fence,  as 
though  by  instinct.  " I'll  hold  the  door  till  you  call;  then 
I'll  run.  The  next  best  thing  to  fighting  is  running." 

I  regretted  the  use  of  Hamilton's  name,  as  it  would 
betray  his  presence,  if  overheard,  which  otherwise  would 
not  have  been  suspected,  all  of  us  being  well  masked.  But 
I  had  no  time  to  waste  hi  vain  regrets,  so  George  and  I 
lifted  Frances  from  the  floor  and  helped  her  down  to  the 
boat,  leaving  De  Grammont  just  outside  the  battered  door, 
defending  himself  nobly  against  four  armed  men  and  keep- 
ing them  inside  the  king's  closet.  He  seemed  to  be  enjoy- 
ing himself,  for  he  was  laughing,  bowing,  parrying,  and 
thrusting,  as  though  he  were  at  a  frolic  rather  than  a  fight. 
There  is  but  one  people  on  earth  in  whose  blood  is  mingled 
fire  and  ice  —  the  French. 

When  we  reached  the  water,  we  found  that  the  running 
tide  had  carried  the  boat  a  short  distance  down-stream, 
but  Bettina  was  standing  on  the  stern  thwart,  bending 
this  way  and  that  in  her  endeavor  to  scull  back  to  the 
landing  by  means  of  the  steering  oar.  Every  drop  of  blood 


FRANCES   DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        281 

in  Bettina's  plump  little  body  was  worth  its  weight  in 
triple  fine  gold  to  us  that  night,  for  she  brought  the  boat 
back  to  us  without  delay,  and  George  helped  Frances  aboard 
while  I  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  privy  stairs,  shouting  loudly :  — 

"Come  on,  Berkeley  !     Come  quickly  !" 

Usually  I  think  of  the  right  thing  to  say  a  fortnight 
after  the  opportunity,  but  this  once  the  name  Berkeley 
came  to  me  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  I  evened  my  score  with 
its  possessor  for  many  a  dirty  trick  he  had  put  upon  me. 
To  suspect  was  to  condemn  with  Charles,  and  I  knew  that 
if  he  heard  me  call  Berkeley's  name,  that  consummate 
villain  would  suffer  the  royal  frown.  And  so  he  did,  never 
having  been  able  to  explain,  nor  deny,  satisfactorily  to  the 
king,  his  presence  at  the  head  of  the  privy  stairs  that  night. 
But  to  return  to  the  fight. 

De  Grammont  heard  my  summons,  came  down  the 
stairs  three  steps  at  a  time,  and  sprang  into  the  boat  from 
the  landing. 

"The  oars  !    The  oars  !"   cried  Hamilton. 

"Death  is  between  them  and  us  !"  cried  De  Grammont. 

"Let  us  go!"  cried  Betty.  "  I'll  scull  the  boat  with  the 
steering  oar  !" 

There  was  not  a  man  in  the  boat  who  knew  the  art  of 
propelling  it  with  one  oar.  Truly  Betty  was  our  salvation 
that  night. 

I  shoved  the  boat  off,  Betty  turned  its  head  down-stream, 
and  away  we  shot.  We  were  not  ten  paces  from  the  water 
stairs  when  five  men  came  running  from  the  privy  stairs  to 
the  landing.  I  recognized  the  king,  who  was  in  the  lead. 
As  they  reached  the  water  edge  of  the  landing,  I  heard  a 
splash.  Majesty,  in  his  eagerness  to  overtake  us,  had 
gathered  too  great  headway  and  had  landed,  if  I  may  use 
the  word,  in  the  water. 

The  other  men,  being  in  armor,  were  compelled  to  doff 


282          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

their  iron  before  jumping  in  to  save  the  king.  The  night 
was  dark,  but  we  were  so  near  the  landing  that  I  saw  two 
of  the  men  begin  to  throw  off  their  armor,  and  presently  I 
heard  two  splashes,  followed  quickly  by  two  pistol  shots 
in  our  direction.  In  our  direction,  I  say,  because  both  of 
the  balls  struck  our  boat. 

After  the  pistol  shots,  all  was  quiet,  but  I  knew  that 
one  of  the  king's  barges,  with  a  dozen  men  at  as  many 
sweeps,  and  a  score  of  men  at  arms,  would  soon  follow  us. 
I  made  my  way  to  the  stern  thwart  of  our  boat,  where  Betty 
was  sculling  for  dear  life,  taking  her  course  diagonally 
across  the  river  toward  the  Southwark  bank.  After  we 
had  passed  the  swift  current  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
which  I  thought  she  had  been  seeking,  I  asked  :  — 

"Why  do  you  not  keep  to  the  centre,  Betty?  You  are 
making  toward  the  other  bank." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  with  what  breath  she  could  spare. 
"We'll  find  a  stand  of  boats  tied  to  poles  almost  opposite 
Temple  Bar  stairs.  There  we  may  take  a  pair  of  oars. 
I'm  afraid  I  can't  hold  out  at  this  much  longer." 

We  soon  found  the  boat  stand,  and,  with  little  ceremony, 
appropriated  a  pair  of  oars,  leaving  a  crown  on  the  thwart 
of  the  rifled  boat. 

Hamilton  and  I  quickly  adjusted  the  stolen  sweeps  in 
the  oar-locks,  Betty  sat  down  on  the  stern  thwart,  guided 
the  boat  to  the  swift  water  of  the  centre,  and  immediately 
we  sped  toward  London  Bridge  at  a  fine  rate.  Presently, 
as  we  had  expected,  we  heard  the  rapid,  regular  stroke  of 
the  sweeps  in  the  king's  barge,  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  was 
so  close  behind  us  that  we  could  see  the  men  at  the  sweeps. 
When  they  raw  us,  they  fired  their  pistols  at  us,  but  we  did 
not  hear  the  bullets  splash  in  the  water,  so  we  knew  they 
did  not  have  our  range. 

My  greatest  fear  of  the  bullets  was  for  Bettina's  sake,  she 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        283 

being  in  the  rear  and  more  exposed  to  the  enemy's  fire  than 
we  who  were  at  the  sweeps,  but  I  could  not  leave  my  oar  to 
take  her  place,  nor  could  I  have  steered  the  boat  had  I  done 
so,  being  unfamiliar  with  the  river.  All  I  could  do  was  to 
hasten  our  stroke,  which  George  and  I  did  to  our  utmost,  and 
soon  the  welcome  beacon  over  the  centre  arch  of  London 
Bridge  came  into  view,  dimly  at  first,  but  brightening  with 
every  stroke  of  our  sweeps.  As  we  approached  the  Bridge, 
De  Grammont  nervously  called  our  attention  to  the  danger 
ahead  of  us. 

"Yes,  we'll  take  the  middle  arch,  and  I  shall  enjoy  seeing 
the  king's  barge  follow  us,"  I  answered,  with  what  breath  I 
could  spare. 

"Take  the  middle  arch,  and  the  tide  running  as  a  river  in 
flood?"  cried  De  Grammont,  speaking  French,  being  too 
excited  to  sort  out  English  words.  "Never !  Never ! 
Let  me  out !" 

"Do  not  fear,  count,"  I  answered.     "Our  pilot  — 

"  Our  pilot !  Ah,  sacrament !  We  are  lost !  Our 
pilot  is  a  mere  girl !" 

"  But  a  wonder,  count,  a  wonder.  There  is  no  waterman 
on  the  river  in  whose  hands  we  should  be  safer,"  I  replied, 
expressing  my  confidence  in  stronger  terms  than  it  really 
deserved.  To  shoot  London  Bridge  when  the  tide  was  run- 
ning out,  as  it  then  was,  would  give  pause  to  the  hardiest 
waterman.  A  misstroke  of  the  steering  oar,  the  slightest 
faltering  in  the  hands  that  held  it,  the  mere  touch  of  the 
boat's  nose  against  the  jagged  rocks  and  logs  of  the  pier, 
and  all  would  be  lost. 

We  could  not  stop  to  put  De  Grammont  on  shore,  and 
presently  recognizing  that  fact,  he  sat  down  in  resignation 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  remarking  with  a  sigh,  as  though 
speaking  to  himself :  — 

"Ah,  the  beautiful  land!" 


284          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

By  that  time  the  flambeau  was  blazing  not  two  hundred 
yards  ahead  of  us.  The  current  had  caught  us,  and  the 
waves  of  the  running  tide  came  almost  to  the  gunwale  of 
the  boat.  Bettina  had  risen  to  her  feet,  leaving  her  hat, 
vizard,  and  cloak  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  was  stand- 
ing on  the  stern  thwart,  her  back  towards  us  and  her  face 
up-stream.  Behind  us,  perhaps  three  hundred  yards,  came 
the  king's  great  barge,  ablaze  with  torches.  The  men  in 
the  barge  had  ceased  firing,  supposing,  probably,  that  we 
should  be  forced  to  land  above  the  Bridge,  and  should  then 
become  an  easy  prey.  But  we  had  Bettina  with  us ;  they 
had  not.  Besides  ours,  there  was  not  another  one  in  the 
world. 

On  came  the  flambeau  over  the  middle  arch.  It  seemed 
to  be  coming  toward  us  rather  than  we  going  toward  it. 
Nearer  lowered  the  black  dim  outline  of  the  houses  on  the 
Bridge,  with  here  and  there  the  flicker  of  a  candle  in  a  win- 
dow, magnified  to  starlike  brightness  by  distance. 

Clearer  and  clearer  came  the  dash  and  the  splash,  the 
roar  and  the  turmoil  of  the  waters  pouring  through  the  ter- 
rible death's  door,  the  middle  arch.  Yet  over  the  middle 
arch  was  the  only  flambeau  on  London  Bridge,  placed  there 
because  it  was  the  broadest  of  all  the  spans,  and  we  dared 
not  attempt  to  pass  under  the  Bridge  in  the  dark. 

But  worse  than  the  middle  arch  ahead  of  us  was  the  king's 
barge  following  close  behind  us.  It,  too,  was  in  the  current, 
though  its  twelve  sweeps  could  easily  have  taken  it  ashore. 
I  suppose  that  pride  and  eagerness  to  overtake  us  prompted 
its  captain  to  follow  in  our  wake.  At  any  rate,  he  contin- 
ued and  was  narrowing  the  distance  between  us  with  each 
stroke  of  the  sweeps.  When  I  asked  Bettina  if  she  thought 
they  would  attempt  the  arch,  she  replied  :  — 

"I  hope  not,"  then  laughing  softly,  "  — for  their  own 
sakes.  The  royal  barges  are  not  built  to  shoot  the  bridge." 


FRANCES  DELIVERS  THE  TREATY        285 

As  we  approached  the  bridge,  Betty  turned  her  eyes  back- 
ward toward  it  every  few  seconds,  taking  her  bearings  and 
bringing  the  boat's  nose  now  a  little  to  the  right,  now  to  the 
left,  and  again  holding  it  straight  ahead. 

When  we  were  within  twenty  yards  of  the  middle  arch, 
she  told  us  to  cease  rowing,  and  we  obeyed,  leaving  the  boat 
in  her  hands. 

The  roar  of  the  falling  waters,  tumbling  in  a  cataract  on 
the  further  side  of  the  Bridge,  frightened  me,  but  if  Betty 
heard  it  she  did  not  fear  it,  for  she  began  to  sing  the  plain- 
tive little  French  lullaby  we  had  so  often  heard,  and  De 
Grammont,  leaning  forward,  touched  me  on  the  back  as 
he  whispered :  — 

"  God  gives  us  an  angel  to  steer  our  boat." 

The  next  moment  the  water  caught  us  in  its  mighty  suck, 
just  under  the  upper  edge  of  the  arch,  and  almost  before  we 
were  aware  that  we  had  started  through,  our  boat  made  a 
plunge  on  the  lower  side,  the  perilous  moment  was  past,  and 
we  were  floating  in  comparatively  still  water  two  score  yards 
below  London  Bridge. 

Then  Captain  Bettina  resumed  her  seat  on  the  stern 
thwart,  and  we  dipped  our  oars. 

We  were  turning  about  to  get  under  way  again,  when  De 
Grammont  cried  out :  — 

"Mon  Dieu !  They  are  lost!  There  they  go  under! 
Ah,  Jesu!" 

We  all  turned  our  eyes  toward  the  Bridge,  but  were  too 
late  to  see  the  barge.  It  had  sunk  in  four  fathoms  of  water, 
and  every  man  aboard  had  gone  down  with  it. 

We  backed  water,  resting  on  our  oars,  and  presently  the 
overturned  barge  came  to  the  surface  and  floated  past  us, 
telling  its  sad  story,  "Perished  in  a  bad  king's  bad  cause," 
—  a  story  written  on  almost  every  page  of  the  world's 
history. 


286          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

A  short  distance  below  the  Tower,  we  met  a  large  boat  be- 
longing to  the  ship  in  which  George  had  come  from  France, 
which  was  waiting  off  Sheerness  to  take  him  back.  The 
boat  had  been  plying  between  Deptford  and  the  Bridge, 
looking  for  George,  since  early  evening.  We  recognized  it  by 
its  long  sweeps,  and  when  we  hailed  it,  we  received  the  pass- 
word and  drew  alongside. 

All  this  time  Frances  had  been  allowed  to  sit  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat,  she  having  assured  us  that  she  had  taken 
no  injury,  but  as  we  approached  the  French  boat  she  arose, 
and  when  I  asked  her  if  she  was  hurt,  she  said,  "No." 

When  I  asked  her  if  she  had  the  treaty,  she  replied,  hold- 
ing out  her  hand  to  George  :  — 

"Yes,  here  it  is.  It  would  have  been  a  pity,  indeed,  to 
have  lost  it  after  all  our  trouble." 

As  we  drew  alongside  the  French  boat,  Hamilton  whis- 
pered to  Frances :  — 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  king.  This  affair 
shows  him  in  a  light  so  ridiculous  that  he  will  not  care  to 
make  it  public,  and  besides,  he  will  not  want  to  return  the 
hundred  thousand  pounds.  You  will  be  safe  in  London, 
and  I  shall  write  to  you  just  as  soon  as  I  return  to  France. 
If  King  Louis's  reward  proves  to  be  what  I  expect,  I  pray 
you  come  to  me,  for,  after  this  affair,  I  dare  not  set  my  foot 
in  England." 

At  that  moment  we  touched  the  other  boat,  and  the  French- 
men grappled  us  to  hold  us  alongside.  George  had  risen 
and  was  about  to  step  aboard,  when  Frances,  catching  him 
by  the  arm,  drew  him  back  and  sprang  aboard  the  French 
boat  ahead  of  him,  saying  :  — 

"I  shall  not  wait  for  a  letter.  I  am  going  with  you 
now." 

George  followed  her  into  the  other  boat,  and  as  it  drew 
away,  I  saw  him  bending  low  to  kiss  her  hand.  Then  he 


FRANCES   DELIVERS  THE  TREATY         287 

shouted  "  Good-by ! "  and  soon  we  could  see  nothing  but 
the  black  water  between  us. 

Betty  began  to  weep,  and  after  a  moment  I  began  to 
swear,  for  I  did  not  like  to  see  my  cousin  go  off  in  this 
manner.  De  Grammont  relieved  his  mind  by  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  took  the  oar  that  George  had  abandoned,  and 
without  a  word  we  started  up-stream  again. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE 

WE  landed  at  the  Old  Swan  stairs  below  the  Bridge  on 
Lower  Thames  Street,  and  went  to  the  end  of  the 
Bridge,  where  DeGrammont  waited  till  I  had  taken 
Bettina  home. 

When  I  returned  to  the  Bridge,  the  count  and  I  took  coach, 
and  after  a  rapid  journey  across  silent  London,  I  arrived  at 
the  palace  just  as  Old  Tom  of  Westminster  was  striking 
eleven. 

I  climbed  over  the  porch  to  my  closet  and  reached  there 
none  too  soon,  for  I  was  hardly  in  bed  when  my  door  opened 
and  in  walked  the  king  followed  by  two  men  bearing  candles. 
I  pretended  to  be  in  a  deep  sleep  and  when  aroused  sprang 
from  my  bed  seemingly  half  dazed  and  ready  to  defend  my- 
self, till  the  king  spoke,  when,  of  course,  I  was  humble 
enough. 

"How  long  have  you  been  here ? "  demanded  the  king. 

"All  night  I  suppose,  your  Majesty;  what  time  is  it 
now?" 

"Past  eleven  !"  the  king  answered. 

"  In  what  may  I  serve  your  Majesty  ?  "  I  asked. 

"By  telling  me  the  truth  !"  he  said,  glaring  at  me  and 
whining  out  his  words.  "Do  you  know  anything  about  the 
attack  on  my  closet  this  evening  ?  " 

Nothing  is  ever  gained  by  denying,  so  I  took  a  leaf  from 
woman's  logic,  and  answered  his  question  by  another. 

"An  attack  on  your  Majesty's  closet?"  I  cried.  Then 

288 


HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE  289 

after  a  long  pause,  and  with  a  manner  of  deep  injury,  I 
demanded:  "Has  anything  untoward  befallen  my  cousin? 
I  carried  out  your  Majesty's  instructions  without  objec- 
tion or  protest.  I  intrusted  her  to  your  care,  and  it  is  my 
right  and  my  duty  to  demand  an  account  of  her  and  to  hold 
your  Majesty  responsible  for  her  welfare." 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  with  a  hang-dog  expres- 
sion on  his  face,  but  he  could  not  stand  my  gaze,  so  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  room  without  another  word. 

He  was  not  convinced  of  my  guilt,  nor  would  he  believe  me 
innocent.  Evidently  the  royal  verdict  was  "not  proven." 
But  in  any  case  I  knew  that  my  favor  at  court  was  at  an  end. 

During  the  next  week  I  constantly  importuned  the  king 
to  tell  me  what  had  become  of  my  cousin,  and  intimated 
my  intention  to  make  trouble  in  terms  so  plain  —  for  I  knew 
the  king's  favor  was  lost  to  me  —  that  my  Lord  Clarendon 
was  instructed  to  offer  me  a  sum  of  money  to  say  nothing 
more  about  the  matter.  I  agreed  to  accept  the  money,  it 
was  paid,  and  I  remained  silent. 

Frequently  the  difference  between  an  acted  lie  and  a 
spoken  lie  is  the  difference  between  success  and  failure. 
Then,  too,  the  acted  lie  has  this  advantage;  there  is  no 
commandment  against  it.  We  should  congratulate  our- 
selves that  so  many  pleasant  sins  were  omitted  on  Sinai. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  after  our  great  adventure  I  went 
to  the  country,  and  within  a  fortnight  returned  to  find 
that  my  place  in  the  Wardrobe  was  taken  by  another,  and 
my  place  in  the  king's  smile  by  the  world  at  large ;  at  least, 
it  was  lost  to  me. 

When  a  wise  courtier  loses  his  king's  smile,  he  takes 
himself  out  of  his  king's  reach.  Therefore  I  cast  about  in 
my  mind  for  a  London  friend  who  would  like  to  possess 
my  title.  I  thought  of  Sir  William  Wentworth,  rather  of 
his  wife,  and  suggested  to  her  that  for  the  sum  of  thirty 


290          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF   FORTUNE 

thousand  pounds  I  would  resign  my  estates  and  title  to 
the  king,  if  Sir  William  would  arrange  for  their  transfer  to 
himself.  The  transfer  directly  from  me  to  him  was  not 
within  the  limits  of  the  law.  It  could  only  be  made  through 
the  king  by  forfeiture  and  grant.  But  the  like  had  hap- 
pened many  times  before,  and  could  be  accomplished  now 
if  the  king  were  compensated  for  his  trouble. 

Wentworth  broached  the  subject  to  our  august  sov- 
ereign who,  in  consideration  of  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
pounds  "lent"  by  Sir  William  to  his  Majesty,  and  because 
he  was  glad  to  conciliate  a  prominent  citizen  of  London, 
that  city  being  very  angry  on  account  of  the  sale  of  Dun- 
kirk, agreed  to  the  transfer,  and  the  baronetcy  of  Clyde 
with  the  appurtenant  estates  passed  to  the  house  of  Went- 
worth, where,  probably,  they  brought  trouble  to  Sir  William 
and  joyous  discontent  to  his  aspiring  lady. 

Aside  from  the  fact  that  I  knew  the  king's  ill  temper 
was  cumulative,  I  had  received  a  hint,  coming  through 
Castlemain's  maid  to  Rochester,  that  if  I  remained  in 
England,  the  king  would  despoil  me.  Then,  too,  I  had 
other  reasons  for  making  the  sale.  I  was  sick  of  England's 
fawning  on  a  poor  weak  creature,  as  cowardly  as  he  was 
dull,  and  almost  as  dull  as  he  was  vicious,  and  longed  to 
flee  to  the  despotism  of  strength  as  I  should  find  it  in 
France  under  Louis  XIV.  There  was  still  another  reason, 
of  which  I  shall  speak  later. 

Three  days  after  the  consummation  of  my  sale  to  Sir 
William  Wentworth,  Count  Hamilton  returned,  and,  learn- 
ing of  the  manner  in  which  I  had  disgraced  myself,  with- 
drew his  challenge,  sending  De  Grammont  to  tell  me  the 
sad  news.  He  would  not  honor  me  by  killing  me. 

"Why  did  you  sell  your  title  and  estates?"  asked  De 
Grammont. 

"I  have  several  good  reasons,  my  dear  count/'  I  an- 


HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE  291 

swered.  "The  first  is  that  I  should  have  lost  them  had  I 
not  sold  them.  While  the  king  does  not  know  that  I  was 
connected  with  the  fight  on  the  privy  stairs,  he  doubtless 
suspected  it,  for  I  have  lived  in  the  royal  frown  ever  since. 
The  second  reason  is  that  I  hate  Charles  Stuart,  and,  admir- 
ing at  least  the  strength  of  your  king's  tyranny,  desire  to 
live  in  France.  King  Louis  says  he  is  the  state,  and  by 
heaven,  he  is  !  Charles  Stuart  knows  that  he  is  nothing, 
and  he  is  right !" 

"Give  me  your  hand,  baron!"  cried  De  Grammont,  a 
smile  of  satisfaction  spreading  over  his  face.  "I  now  tell 
you  my  secret.  No  one  else  knows  it.  The  purchase  of 
Dunkirk  has  bought  for  me  the  smile  of  my  master.  I 
have  been  recalled  to  Versailles.  I  return  to  La  Belle 
France  within  a  fortnight !  Come  with  me  !  I'll  show 
you  a  king  in  very  deed,  and  promise  furthermore  that  his 
smile  shall  be  for  you  !" 

"I  can't  go  with  you,  my  dear  count,"  I  returned  grate- 
fully. "But  I  promise  to  see  you  soon  in  Paris.  I  sup- 
pose you  will  take  with  you  the  elder  Mistress  Hamilton, 
to  whom  I  understand  you  have  long  been  plighted  in  mar- 
riage, or  will  you  return  for  her?" 

"O-o-oh  !  Return  for  her,  dear  baron,  return  for  her  !" 
answered  the  count,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

To  close  the  chapter  of  De  Grammont's  life  in  England, 
I  would  say  that  he  kept  the  secret  of  his  recall  to  France, 
and  one  night  after  dark  left  his  house  near  the  Mall,  taking 
a  coach  to  Dover  without  saying  to  Mistress  Hamilton 
when  he  would  return. 

But  Mistress  Hamilton  had  two  brothers  still  in  Eng- 
land, Count  Anthony  and  James,  who,  catching  wind  of 
De  Grammont's  exodus,  took  horse  and  a  small  escort, 
made  all  possible  speed,  and  came  up  with  De  Grammont's 
coach  some  six  or  eight  leagues  east  of  London. 


292          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

Count  Anthony  rode  up  to  one  door  of  the  coach,  while 
James  brought  his  horse  to  the  other. 

"Good  morning,  count,"  said  Anthony,  bending  down  to 
the  coach  window. 

"Good  morning,  my  dear  count,"  returned  De  Gram- 
mont,  blandly. 

"Is  there  not  something  you  have  forgotten,  count?" 
asked  Anthony. 

"Odds  fish!  Yes!  I  forgot  to  marry  your  sister," 
answered  De  Grammont,  appropriating  the  king's  oath, 
and  apparently  astounded  at  his  own  forgetfulness. 
"Thank  you,  dear  count,  for  reminding  me.  I'll  go  back 
to  London  and  do  it  at  once." 

"Your  parole  ?"  asked  Anthony. 

"Yes,  the  word  of  a  De  Grammont,"  answered  the  count, 
whereupon  the  Hamiltons  lifted  their  hats  and  galloped 
home,  knowing  certainly  that  De  Grammont  would  follow. 

De  Grammont  reached  London  soon  after  sun-up,  and, 
true  to  his  word,  married  Miss  Hamilton,  blessed  his  stars 
ever  afterward  for  having  done  so,  and  gave  her  no  cause 
for  unhappiness  save  a  French  one. 

Soon  after  the  sale  to  Wentworth,  I  received  a  letter 
from  George  telling  me  that  King  Louis  had  not  only 
made  him  rich,  but  had  appointed  him  Governor  of  Dun- 
kirk, with  promise  of  further  advancement.  George  said, 
also,  that  the  French  king,  having  heard  of  my  part  in  the 
Dunkirk  transaction  and  my  disgrace  with  my  king,  had 
offered  to  advance  my  interest  if  I  would  go  to  France. 
In  a  postscript  to  the  letter,  which  was  much  longer  than 
the  letter  itself,  Frances  told  me  how  she  and  George  had 
been  married  immediately  on  landing  in  France,  and  were 
living  very  happily  in  Paris,  where  they  would  remain 
until  George  should  take  up  the  government  of  Dunkirk. 

So  it  had  all  fallen  out  just  as  one  might  have  expected 


HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE  293 

to  find  it  in  a  story-book.  George  had  been  proved  by 
Fortune's  touchstone,  and  her  Ladyship  had  chosen  him 
for  her  smile.  He  had  won  the  long  odds. 

What  remains  to  be  told  is  simply  the  denouement  of 
my  own  affairs. 

At  the  time  of  my  transaction  with  Wentworth  I  said 
nothing  to  Bettina  about  the  sale  of  my  title  and  estates, 
but  when  I  heard  that  our  friends  were  safe  and  happy  in 
France,  I  went  down  to  the  Old  Swan,  with  more  fear 
than  I  should  have  thought  possible,  to  broach  a  certain 
matter,  which  was  very  near  my  heart,  to  Betty  and  her 
father. 

I  knew  that  in  so  far  as  Betty  herself  was  concerned,  I 
should  find  no  trouble,  but  I  also  knew  that  I  might  find 
difficulty  in  persuading  her  to  leave  her  father,  for  duty 
was  a  tremendous  word  in  Betty's  vocabulary. 

When  I  reached  the  Old  Swan,  policy  and  fear  each  told 
me  that  it  would  be  safer  to  attack  Betty  and  her  father 
separately.  The  odds  of  two  against  one,  in  this  case,  I 
feared  would  be  too  great  for  me  to  overcome.  So  I  led 
Betty  to  her  parlor, — rather  she  led  me, — and  after  a  pre- 
liminary skirmish,  I  told  her  I  had  come  to  see  her  on  a 
most  important  piece  of  business. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  whatever  brings  you,  Baron  Ned," 
she  answered,  smoothing  out  her  skirts  in  anticipation  of 
an  interesting  budget  of  news. 

"But  I'm  no  longer  'Baron  Ned,'  Betty,"  I  informed  her. 

She  asked  a  hundred  questions  with  her  eyes  and  eye- 
brows, and  I  hastily  answered  them  by  telling  of  the  sale 
to  Wentworth. 

"Ah,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  answered,  "and  I'm  so  glad,  too, 
that  I  could  cry.  You  don't  seem  so  much  above  me  nor 
so  far  away." 


294          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"That  was  my  chief  reason  for  selling  my  title  and 
estates,"  I  answered,  reaching  forward  and  taking  her  hand, 
which  for  the  first  time  she  did  not  withdraw.  "  I  sold  them, 
Betty,  for  a  large  price,  but  my  reason  for  so  doing  was 
one  that  could  not  be  measured  by  money.  I  want  you 
for  my  wife,  Betty,  and  my  title,  at  least,  stood  between 
us.  I  should  have  given  it  away  if  I  could  not  have  sold 
it,  because  I  want  you,  Betty,  more  than  anything  else  in 
all  the  world." 

"Ah,  please  don't,  Baron  Ned  !"  she  cried,  bringing  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  "It  can't  be.  I'm  not  so  selfish 
as  to  take  you  at  your  word." 

I  was  sitting  on  the  cushioned  bench  by  the  wall,  and 
she  was  in  a  chair  facing  me,  within  easy  reach,  so  I  caught 
her  wrists  and  drew  her  to  me,  whispering :  — 

"Sit  here,  Bettina,  by  my  side,  and  tell  me  why  it  can- 
not be,  for  I  pledge  you  my  honor  I  am  not  to  be  denied." 
She  resisted  for  a  moment,  but  at  last  sat  down  beside  me, 
and  I  put  my  arm  about  her,  despite  her  fluttering  struggle. 
"Now,  tell  me  why,  Bettina.  I  need  not  tell  you  that 
you  have  my  love.  You  know  it  without  the  telling." 

She  nodded  her  head  "Yes,"  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

"And  am  I  wrong  in  believing  that  I  possess  your  love?" 
I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head  to  indicate  that  I  was  not  wrong, 
and  the  little  gesture  was  as  good  as  an  oath  to  me.  After 
her  confession,  she  would  not  dare  to  resist  me,  nor  did 
she,  save  to  say  pleadingly :  — 

"Please,  Baron  Ned,  it  cannot  be." 

Tears  were  trickling  down  her  cheeks,  and  I  could  see 
that  she  was  in  great  trouble. 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  come  to  me  now,"  I  said,  "but  you 
may  take  a  long  time,  if  you  wish  —  a  day,  or  two,  or 


HER  LADYSHIP'S   SMILE  295 

even  three,  if  you  insist.  But  Betty,  I  am  not  to  be  re- 
fused, and  you  may  as  well  understand  now  and  for  all  that 
you  are  to  be  my  wife.  But  tell  me,  Betty,  what  is  your 
reason  for  denying  me  at  this  time?" 

She  dried  her  eyes,  sat  erect,  and  answered  in  a  voice 
full  of  tears:  "Well,  you  are  so  far  above  me  that  the 
time  might  come  when  you  would  be  ashamed  of  me." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  Betty.  Drop  that  argument  at 
once.  You  know  you  do  not  mean  it.  You  are  not  speak- 
ing the  exact  truth.  There  is  no  sweetness,  no  beauty,  like 
yours." 

"Do  you  really  mean  it,  Baron  Ned?"  she  answered, 
smiling  up  to  me. 

"Yes,  yes,  every  word  and  a  thousand  more,"  I  answered. 

"But  I  am  so  unworthy,"  she  said. 

"You're  pretending,  Betty,"  I  answered,  and  I  argued  so 
well  that  she  abandoned  her  position. 

"Now,  give  me  another  reason,  Betty,"  I  demanded, 
feeling  encouraged  by  the  success  of  my  first  bout.  To  this 
she  answered  with  great  hesitancy,  murmuring  her  words 
almost  inaudibly :  — 

"I  could  not  leave  father." 

That  was  the  reason  I  had  feared,  and  when  I  drew  away 
from  her,  showing  my  great  disappointment  in  my  face,  she 
took  one  of  my  hands  in  both  of  hers,  saying :  — 

"Not  that  I  should  not  be  happy  to  go  with  you  anywhere, 
but  you  see  I  am  all  the  world  to  father.  He  would  die 
without  me." 

Here,  of  course,  I  might  expect  tears,  nor  was  I  disap- 
pointed. I,  too,  found  the  tears  coming  to  my  eyes,  for  her 
grief  touched  me  keenly,  and  her  love  for  her  father  showed 
me  even  more  plainly  than  I  had  ever  before  known  the 
unselfish  tenderness  of  the  girl  I  so  longed  to  possess.  It  was 
hard  for  me  to  speak  against  this  argument  of  hers ;  for  it 


296          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

was  like  finding  fault  with  the  best  part  of  her,  so  for  a  little 
time  we  were  silent.  After  a  minute  or  two,  she  glanced  up 
to  me  and,  seeing  my  great  trouble,  murmured  brokenly :  — 

"If  you  think  I  am  worth  waiting  for,  and  if  you  will  wait 
till  father  is  gone,  I  will  go  with  you,  and  your  smallest  and 
greatest  wish  alike  shall  be  mine.  And  when  you  become 
ashamed  of  me,  I'll  — 

"I'll  not  wait,  Betty,"  I  answered,  ignoring  the  latter  half 
of  her  remark.  "I  have  a  far  better  plan.  I  am  going  to 
France,  and  you  and  your  father  shall  go  with  me." 

"Ah,  will  you  take  him?"  she  cried,  falling  to  the  floor 
on  her  knees,  creeping  between  mine,  and  clasping  her  hands 
about  my  neck.  Her  sweet,  warm  breath  came  to  me  like  a 
waft  from  a  field  of  roses,  the  fluffy  shreds  of  her  hair  tingled 
my  cheek,  thrilling  me  to  the  heart,  while  the  touch  of  her 
hand  and  the  clasp  of  her  arm  carried  me  to  heaven. 

Then  she  laid  her  head  on  my  breast,  her  lips  came  close 
to  mine,  and  she  murmured  with  a  sigh  :  — 

"Now,  Baron  Ned,  as  you  will." 

I  told  Betty  to  call  Pickering,  and  when  he  came  in  I 
related  my  story.  I  told  him  how  Betty  and  I  were  of  one 
mind,  how  George  had  prospered  in  France  and  had  invited 
me  to  share  his  good  fortune,  how  I  wanted  to  go  to  France 
and  to  take  Bettina  with  me,  and  how  I  wanted  him  to  sell 
the  Old  Swan  and  go  with  us  to  the  fair  land  across  the 
Channel,  where  his  wealth  would  give  him  station  such  as 
he  deserved. 

Immediately  he  objected,  saying  that  the  scheme  was 
impossible.  He  said  that  he  could  sell  the  Old  Swan  for  a 
great  sum  to  Robbins,  of  the  Dog's  Head,  and  that  all  he 
possessed,  aside  from  the  inn,  was  in  gold,  lodged  with  Back- 
well,  but  for  all  that,  my  plan  could  not  be  considered  for  a 
moment. 


HER  LADYSHIP'S  SMILE  297 

"My  dear  Pickering,  hear  my  side  of  the  case,"  I  insisted, 
determined  to  win  this  last  bout  as  I  had  won  the  others. 
"You  love  your  daughter  and  would  be  unhappy  if  she  were 
to  leave  you  alone  in  the  world  ?" 

"Indeed  I  should  be,"  he  answered  firmly.  "I  will  not 
consider  your  suggestion.  I  will  not.  I  will  not." 

"She  is  more  generous  than  you,"  I  returned,  "and  re- 
fuses to  leave  you,  though  she  would  be  very  unhappy  if 
you  force  her  to  remain." 

"I  suppose  you  think  so,"  he  replied  sullenly. 

"I  know  so,"  I  answered,  "and  can  prove  it  by  Betty." 
Betty  nodded  her  head  "Yes,"  and  I  continued  :  "You  will 
not  be  unhappy  in  France  with  us.  You  will  be  happy. 
Yet  you  refuse  to  be  happy  save  in  your  own  stubborn  way, 
even  though  you  bring  grief  to  the  tenderest  heart  in  the 
world.  But  come,  come,  Pickering  !  This  will  not  do  ! 
I  tell  you,  I'm  not  to  be  refused  !" 

Pickering  lapsed  into  stubborn  silence,  and  as  there  is  no 
arguing  with  a  man  who  will  not  argue,  I  determined  to 
take  another  course ;  so  I  spoke  sharply :  — 

"Since  you  will  not  be  reasonable,  I  have  another  plan 
to  suggest :  I  will  give  up  my  prospects  of  fortune  in  France, 
and  will  live  here  in  this  rotten  Old  Swan  as  long  as  you  live, 
never  taking  Betty  from  your  side.  If  you  do  not  give  her 
to  me  under  these  conditions,  I  will  take  her  away  without 
any  conditions.  Eh,  Betty  ?  " 

Betty  hung  in  the  wind  for  a  moment,  then  nodded 
slowly :  — 

"Yes." 

Pickering  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  for  a  moment, 
then  looked  up  to  me  and  asked  :  — 

"Would  you  do  that,  baron?  Would  you  come  down 
from  your  high  estate  to  our  lowly  condition  for  the  sake 
of  my  poor  little  girl  ?  " 


298          THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  FORTUNE 

"Yes,  Pickering,"  I  answered. 

Then  after  a  moment's  thought,  he  said:  "I'll  sell  the 
Old  Swan  and  go  with  you  to  France." 

Betty  took  my  hand,  then  she  grasped  her  father's,  drew 
him  down  to  her  and  kissed  him. 

So  Betty  and  I  were  married  in  the  little  chapel  at  the 
South wark  end  of  London  Bridge,  and  off  we  went  to  our 
friends  in  France,  where  God  blessed  us  and  we  were  very 
happy.  We  had  all  been  tried  by  the  Touchstone  of 
Fortune,  and  had  won  her  Ladyship's  smile !  May  God 
comfort  those  on  whom  she  frowns ! 


NOTE 

BARON  CLYDE  seems  to  be  the  only  writer  of  the  period  of 
Charles  II  who  mentions  the  part  taken  by  George  Hamil- 
ton and  Frances  Jennings  in  the  sale  of  the  city  of  Dunkirk, 
but,  of  course,  the  particulars  of  that  disgraceful  affair 
would  have  been  kept  a  secret  from  all  save  those  who  par- 
ticipated in  it. 

It  is  said  that  Nell  Gwynn,  John  Churchill,  and  Sarah 
Jennings  were  younger  than  Baron  Clyde  indicates.  There- 
fore there  are  many  discerning  persons  who  hold  that  he 
was  "idealizing"  when  he  wrote  of  them  being  at  court  at 
the  time  Dunkirk  was  sold. 

There  appears  to  be  some  ground  for  the  criticism. 

But  in  all  essential  respects  the  baron's  history  is  held, 
justly,  to  be  true  to  facts  and  conditions,  and  that,  after  all, 
is  the  main  thing.  Exact  truth  is  evasive;  therefore  the 
virtues  of  approximation  are  not  to  be  deprecated. 


299 


T 


HE  following  pages  contain  advertise- 
ments of  a  few  of  the  Macmillan  novels 


Other  works  by  this  popular  author 

Each,  Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 

The  Little  King 

"  Mr.  Major's  versatility  is  again  shown  in  this  delightful  story  for  chil- 
dren, which  is  as  unlike  his  '  Dorothy  Vernon  of  Haddon  Hall '  and 
the  other  books  of  fiction  for  'grown-ups,'  that  have  won  him  such 
unprecedented  fame  as  a  novelist,  as  can  well  be  imagined. 
"  That '  The  Little  King '  will  greatly  increase  his  popularity  with  young 
people,  already  well  established  by  his  '  Bears  of  Blue  River '  and 
'  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill,'  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  fact  that  those 
were  stories  of  Indians  and  pioneers,  while  this  is  of  France  and  historic 
happenings,  will  but  widen  his  audience  to  include  those  to  whom 
stories  of  the  West  would  not  appeal. "  —  Nation. 

A  Gentle  Knight  of  Old  Brandenburg 

Mr.  Major  has  selected  a  period  to  the  romance  of  which  other  histor- 
ical novelists  have  been  singularly  blind.  The  boyhood  of  Frederick 
the  Great,  and  the  strange  wooing  of  his  charming  sister  Wilhelmina, 
have  afforded  a  theme  rich  in  its  revelation  of  human  nature  and  full 
of  romantic  situations. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  best  books  of  the  season.  A  bright  light  is  thrown 
upon  the  queer  and  quaint  court  of  King  Frederick  William  of  Prussia, 
and  many  imposing  or  otherwise  interesting  personages  bow  their  way 
in  these  attractive  pages  with  a  courtly  grace  and  charm  that  is  truly 
of  the  olden  time.  A  very  enjoyable  book."  —  New  York  Observer. 

Dorothy  Vernon  of  Haddon  Hall 

Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy 

"  Dorothy  is  a  splendid  creation,  a  superb  creature  of  brains,  beauty, 
force,  capacity,  and  passion,  a  riot  of  energy,  love,  and  red  blood. 
She  is  the  fairest,  fiercest,  strongest,  tenderest  heroine  that  ever  woke 
up  a  jaded  novel  reader  and  made  him  realize  that  life  will  be  worth 
living  so  long  as  the  writers  of  fiction  create  her  like.  .  .  .  The  story 
has  brains,  '  go,'  virility,  gumption,  and  originality." 

—  The  Boston  Herald. 

" '  Dorothy  Vernon  '  is  refreshing  not  only  on  account  of  its  fascinating 
whirlwind  of  a  heroine,  but  also  because  it  is  built  on  rather  unusual 
lines.  ...  A  story  with  no  halting  in  the  action,  an  abundance  of 
variety;  a  swift,  brief,  engaging  tale." —  The  Boston  Herald. 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


A  Forest  Hearth 

A  Romance  of  Indiana  in  the  Thirties.    Illustrated 

"This  work  is  a  novel  full  of  charm  and  action,  picturing  the  life  and 
love  of  the  fascinating,  indomitable  adventurous  men  and  women,  boys 
and  girls,  who  developed  Indiana.  It  is  a  vigorous,  breezy,  outdoor 
book,  with  the  especial  intimate  touch  that  is  possible  only  when  the 
subject  is  one  which  has  long  lain  close  to  its  author's  heart." 

—  Daily  News. 

Yolanda,  Maid  of  Burgundy 

Illustrated 

"  Charles  Major  has  done  the  best  work  of  his  life  in  '  Yolanda.'  The 
volume  is  a  genuine  romance  .  .  .  and  after  the  reviewer  has  become 
surfeited  with  problem  novels,  it  is  like  coming  out  into  the  sunlight  to 
read  the  fresh,  sweet  story  of  her  love  for  Max."  —  The  World  To-day. 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill 

A  Story  of  Bears  and  Indian  Treasure.    Illustrated 

"No  one  can  question  Mr.  Major's  happy  touch  and  compelling  power 
when  it  comes  to  writing  about  boys  for  boys.  .  .  .  The  story  is  a  true 
and  lively  picture  of  life  half  a  century  ago  in  what  is  now  the  Middle 
West,  but  was  then  the  frontier."  —  The  Outlook. 


The  Bears  of  Blue  River 

Illustrated 

"  Mr.  Major's  book,  with  its  vivid  pictures  of  pioneer  life  in  the  Middle 
West,  deserves  to  become  a  juvenile  classic.  ...  It  is  wholesome  ad- 
venture of  the  best  kind  and  its  atmosphere  is  of  just  the  bracing  kind 
which  is  good  for  boys  and  girls."  —  The  Congregationalist. 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


New  Macmillan  Fiction  by  Leading  Authors 


Julia  France  and  Her  Times 

By  GERTRUDE  ATHERTON,  author  of  "  Tower  of  Ivory," 
"  The  Conqueror,"  etc. 

Decorated  cloth,  I2mo,  $f.jo  net 

The  scenes  of  Mrs.  Atherton's  new  novel  are  laid  on  Nevis  Island,  one  of 
the  West  Indies,  and  in  England,  with  glimpses  of  India  and  San  Francisco. 
The  hero  of  the  story  is  an  American,  a  San  Franciscan  of  the  most  modern 
type  ;  the  heroine  is  a  study  of  all  that  civilization  has  done  for  woman  up  to 
date. 

The  Giant  Fisher 

By  Mrs.  HUBERT  BARCLAY,  author  of  "  Trevor  Lordship." 

Cloth,  I2tno,  #7*25  net 

Mrs.  Barclay  will  be  pleasantly  remembered  for  her  charming  story  "  Trevor 
Lordship."  Her  new  book,  though  English  in  setting,  is  very  different  in 
character  from  its  predecessor,  and  reveals  the  author's  versatility  both  in 
subject  and  treatment. 

Hieronymus  Rides 

By  ANNA  COLEMAN  LADD. 

Cloth,  I2mo,  $1.35  net 

Hieronymus,  half  brother  of  Emperor  Maximilian,  soldier,  knight,  and  su- 
perior court  jester,  is  the  hero  of  this  fine  and  spirited  romance  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  An  unusual  and  wholly  delightful  departure  from  the  conventional 
historical  novel. 

The  House  of  Pride 

By  JACK  LONDON,  author  of  "  The  Sea  Wolf,"  etc. 

Decorated  cloth,  ismo,  $f.oo  net 

Beginning  with  the  title  and  running  through  to  the  last  word,  every  one  of 
the  six  stories  which  compose  this  book  grips  the  reader.  Honolulu,  Molokai, 
the  leper's  island,  and  others  of  the  Hawaiian  group  afford  splendid  settings 
for  the  tales. 

The  Goodly  Fellowship 

By  RACHEL  CAPEN  SCHAUFFLER. 

Cloth,  i2mo,  $7-25  net 

Life  in  a  missionary  station  in  Persia  with  its  dangers  and  hardships  forms 
the  background  for  this  love  story  which  tells  of  the  adventures  of  Jean  Stuart 
"  of  Bar  Harbor  and  New  York,"  who,  while  on  a  sightseeing  tour,  is  rescued 
by  a  band  of  missionaries  from  mountain  brigands. 


New  Fiction  (Continued) 

White  Ashes 

By  KENNEDY-NOBLE. 

Cloth,  izmo,  $1.25  net;  postage  extra 

Probably  the  strongest  novel  of  the  season  and  of  especial  interest  as  the 
only  story  that  has  ever  been  written  about  a  fire  insurance  company.  It  gives 
a  graphic  picture  of  the  fire  insurance  business  as  to-day  conducted. 

Its  clever  strategy  is  by  no  means  lacking  in  amusement  and  the  romance 
element. 


The  Friar  of  Wittenberg 


By  WILLIAM  STEARNS  DAVIS,  author  of  "  A  Friend  of  Caesar," 
"  God  Wills  It." 

Cloth,  i2mo,  $/.Jj"  net ;  postage  extra 

In  the  character  of  Martin  Luther,  William  Stearns  Davis  has  found  admi- 
rable material  around  which  to  build  an  historical  novel  of  more  than  ordinary 
importance.  He  has  succeeded  above  all  else  in  making  this  picturesque  fig- 
ure live,  imparting  to  the  stirring  episodes  in  which  he  played  a  part  so  much 
of  reality  that  the  reader  is  enabled  to  visualize  as  never  before  the  conditions 
leading  to  the  religious  revolt  of  which  the  Friar  of  Wittenberg  was  so  power- 
ful a  leader. 

Van  Cleve 

By  MARY  S.  WATTS,  author  of  "Nathan  Burke,"  "The  Legacy,"  etc. 

Cloth,  i2mo,  $f.J5  net ;  postage  extra 

An  up-to-date  story,  rich  in  character  portrayal,  in  incident  and  human  ap- 
peal, and  which  will,  in  all  probability,  be  more  popular  than  either  "  Nathan 
Burke"  or  "The  Legacy,"  two  novels  which  met  with  such  wide  favor.  The 
hero,  Van  Cleve,  is  a  young  man  who  finds  himself  obliged,  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  to  support  a  family  of  foolish,  good-hearted,  ill-balanced  women,  and 
one  shiftless,  pompous  old  man  —  his  grandfather,  aunt,  cousin,  and  uncle. 
Out  of  this  situation  the  story  grows  which  will  be  welcome  to  the  many  ad- 
mirers of  Mrs.  Watts. 

The  Rich  Mrs.  Burgoyne 

By  KATHLEEN  NORRIS,  author  of  "  Mother." 

Decorated  cloth,  ismo,  $f.2j  net;  postage  extra 

A  story  with  a  gripping  theme,  which  vividly  recalls  the  author's  great  suc- 
cess, "  Mother." 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  Tork 


Important  New  Fiction  by  Leading  Authors 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  SHADOW 

By  RICHARD  WASHBURN  CHILD,  author  of  "Jim  Hands." 
Decorated  cloth,  izmo,  illustrated,  $1.25  net 

Some  of  the  incidents  described  are  full  of  the  well-turned  humor 
for  which  Mr.  Child  is  so  well  known  ;  others  where  life  is  looked  at 
seriously,  are  grave,  but  all  are  human  to  the  core. 

JOHN  TEMPLE  :   MERCHANT  ADVENTURER,  CONVICT  AND 

CONQUISTADOR 
By  RALPH  DURAND.    Illustrated  by  WILLIAM  SEWELL. 

Cloth,  I2tno,  $1.25  net 

Every  schoolboy  has  heard  tales  as  true  as  they  are  wonderful  of  the 
Spanish  conquest  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  but  comparatively  few  boys 
or  men  —  in  the  absence  of  a  Prescott  —  know  that  a  tale  almost  as 
wonderful  and  romantic,  and  every  bit  as  true,  might  be  written  of 
the  unsuccessful  attempt  made  by  Francisco  Barreto  to  establish  a 
great  Portuguese  Empire  in  South  Africa.  By  the  aid  of  relics  and 
traditions  of  this  period,  still  extant  in  the  Zambesi  Valley,  and  from 
the  historical  records,  Mr.  Durand  has  here  tried  to  rescue  this  story 
from  oblivion.  He  has  used  the  novel  as  his  medium  because  the 
tale,  though  true,  seemed  too  romantic  for  sober  history. 

PUPPETS 

By  GEORGE  FORBES.  Cloth,  izmo,  $1.25  net 

On  the  surface  this  is  a  story ;  but  that  is  not  the  principal  thing. 
Through  the  pleasant,  humorous,  kindly  talk  of  the  principal  char- 
acter is  developed  a  philosophy  of  life  so  simple  that  it  will  appeal 
to  every  one  who  thinks  at  all,  yet  so  comprehensive  that  it  removes 
many  of  the  difficulties  the  average  person  has  in  trying  to  conceive 
what  life  really  is. 

THE  JUGGLERS 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOTT  SEA  WELL,  author  of  "The  Ladies' 
Battle,"  etc. 

Decorated  cloth,  I2mo,  illustrated,  $r.oo  ntf 

The  varied  experiences  of  a  travelling  band  of  singers  and  dancers 
just  before  and  during  the  time  of  the  Franco-Prussian  War  is  thr 
theme  of  this  colorful  story. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


IMPORTANT  FICTION 


GERTRUDE   ATHERTON'S 

Tower  of  Ivory  Ckth,  i2mo,  $i.5o 

"  The  '  Tower  of  Ivory  '  provides  the  closest  study  of  certain  phases  of 
English  high  life  at  home  and  abroad  that  has  been  given  us  by  any 
novelist  in  a  great  many  years.  Mrs.  Atherton  has  her  readers 
grappled  to  her  soul  by  some  of  the  most  solid  merits  of  the  novelist  and 
these  she  repays  generously."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post, 

CLARA   E.   LAUGHLIN'S 

Just    Folks  Cloth,  izmo,  $1.50 

"  This  work  does  for  readers  of  fiction  the  very  real  service  of  human- 
izing the  slums."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  A  most  readable  story,  and  one  that  warms  the  heart  toward  others." 
—  Christian  Advocate,  New  York. 

MABEL   O.   WRIGHT'S 

Princess  Flower  Hat  Cloth,  ismo,  $1.50 


"  The  tale  is  charming,  the  reading  throughout  is  delightful,  and  no 
lover  of  a  garden  will  pass  the  book  unnoticed."  —  San  Francisco 
Call. 

E.   V.   LUCAS' 

Mr.  Ingleside  cloth,  i2mo,  $1.35  net 

"  '  Mr.  Ingleside  '  is  a  literary  man's  novel.  The  story  itself  is  the  least 
of  Mr.  Ingleside  '  ;  it  is  the  way  it  is  told,  the  keen  observation  of  men 
and  things  and  life  in  general,  the  excellent  characterization,  the  drollery 
and  whimsey  that  bring  delight  from  page  to  page.  ...  It  is  rich  with 
allusions  and  memories,  ready  with  knowledge  of  life,  and  quickened 
with  a  love  for  quirks  and  oddities  in  character  wherever  they  are  to  be 
found."  —  Argus,  Albany,  N.Y. 

RICHARD   WASHBURN   CHILD'S 

Jim    Hands  Cloth,  izmo,  $1.20  net 

"  This  is  an  excellent  story.  It  treats  of  simple  people,  of  a  noble- 
hearted  girl  who  saw  her  duty,  and  of  the  man  she  loved.  There  are 
scenes  of  real  dramatic  power.  The  interest  is  sustained.  The  kind  of 
book  that  works  the  heart  chords  every  now  and  then."  —  News  and 
Courier,  Charleston,  S.C. 

"  Mr.  Child  gives  us  a  novel  of  uncommon  interest,  but  what  marks  it  at 
once  for  attention  is  its  purely  human  quality,  its  knowledge  of  the 
fundamental  traits  of  men  and  women,  its  atmosphere  of  truth  to  daily 
life."  —  New  York  Tribune. 


IMPORTANT  NEW  FICTION 


The  Healer 

By  ROBERT  HERRICK,  Author  of  "Together,"  "The  Com- 
mon Lot,"  etc.  Cloth,  izmo,  $1.35  net 
Mr.  Herrick's  new  novel  might  be  termed  a  complement  to 
Together.  Like  that  book,  it  deals  with  certain  questions  that 
belong  specifically  to  America  to-day,  in  the  broadly  realistic  spirit 
that  made  Together  one  of  the  most  notable  contributions  to 
American  fiction.  In  this  field  Mr.  Herrick  is  regarded  by  many 
critics  as  the  leader  among  present-day  writers  of  English  fiction, 
and  it  is  safe  to  expect  that  The  Healer  will  arouse  more  than 
ordinary  interest. 

The  Believing  Years 

By  EDMUND  LESTER  PEARSON 

Decorated  cloth,  izmo,  $1.25  net 

This  story  of  the  doings  of  a  group  of  country  boys  shows  that 
along  with  his  wonderful  understanding  of  the  boy  nature,  the 
author  has,  what  is  just  as  important,  a  vivid  memory  of  his  own 
boyhood.  Without  such  a  memory  he  could  never  write  as  he 
does  of  the  charmed  circle  of  youth,  into  which  no  man  may  enter, 
no  matter  how  well  he  may  appreciate  the  faiths  and  superstitions 
of  its  members.  The  book  has  humor  and  incident,  but  its  charm 
resides  in  the  startling  fidelity  with  which  it  recalls  the  very  spirit 
of  youth  —  of  "  the  believing  years." 

"BARBARA'S"  New  Story 
The  Love  that  Lives 

By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT,  Author  of  "  Poppea  of  the 
Postoffice."  With  a  frontispiece  in  colors  by  H.  C.  WALL. 

Decorated  cloth,  izmo,  $1.30  net 

Whenever  Mabel  Osgood  Wright  sets  out  to  tell  a  love  story  she 
succeeds  as  do  few  novelists.  Her  new  novel  is  simply  a  love 
story,  full  of  the  vivid  character  sketches  for  which  she  is  so  well 
known,  and  more  rapid  in  action  perhaps  than  anything  she  has 
ever  written.  It  concerns  the  endeavors  of  a  man  and  wife  to 
mold  the  careers  of  their  three  children.  How  the  individual 
instincts  of  the  children  turn  them  from  the  ways  planned  for  them 
by  their  forebears,  and,  how  they  love,  and  in  the  end,  prove  their 
right  of  choice,  is  the  backbone  of  the  story. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


Mr.  Owen  Wister' s  Novels 
MEMBERS  OF  THE   FAMILY 

Decorated  cloth,  I2tno,  $1.25  net 

"  Thrilling  and  unusual  tales  of  life  on  the  Western  prairies.  Mr. 
Wister  has  shown  himself  a  master  in  this  class  of  fiction." —  Critic. 

LADY  BALTIMORE  cioih,  I2mo,  ?z.5o 

"  After  cowboy  stories  innumerable,  '  The  Virginian '  came  as  the 
last  and  definite  word  on  that  romantic  subject  in  our  fiction. 
'  Lady  Baltimore '  will  serve  in  much  the  same  way  as  the  most 
subtly  drawn  picture  of  the  old-world  dignity  of  the  vanished 
South."  —  The  New  York  Evening  Mail. 

THE  VIRGINIAN 

By  the  Author  of  "  Lady  Baltimore,"  "  Members  of  the 
Family,"  etc.  New  edition  with  new  illustrations  by  CHARLES 
M.  RUSSELL,  and  drawings  of  Western  scenes  by  FREDERIC 
REMINGTON. 

Decorated  doth,  ismo,  $1.50  net 

Also  a  limited  large  paper  edition,  on  Japanese  vellum 

Cloth,  crown  8vo,  $10.00  net 

Since  the  publication  of  The  Virginian  ten  years  ago,  that  novel 
has  been  generally  recognized  as  the  finest  Western  story  ever 
written.  In  preparing  the  new  edition  it  seemed  appropriate  to 
associate  with  Mr.  Wister  that  artist  who  has  done  the  most  to 
present  pictorially  the  West  as  it  is  —  Charles  M.  Russell.  Added 
to  the  new  pictures  which  Mr.  Russell  has  made  is  an  accompani- 
ment of  Western  drawings  by  Frederic  Remington. 
"  The  vanished  West  is  made  to  live  again  by  Owen  Wister  in  a 
manner  which  makes  his  book  easily  the  best  that  deals  with  the 
cowboy  and  the  cattle  country.  ...  It  is  picturesque,  racy,  and, 
above  all,  it  is  original." —  The  Philadelphia  Press. 

MOTHER 

BY  KATHLEEN  NORRIS 

Cloth,  i2mo,  $1.20  net 

Mrs.  Paget  is  mother  of  a  healthy,  happy  family,  possessing  more 
good  humor  and  wit  than  funds.  Margaret,  the  oldest  daughter, 
pretty  and  clever,  has  her  taste  of  life  in  the  luxurious  surroundings 
of  a  New  York  millionaire's  home.  Then  comes  love  —  and  an 
awakening.  Every  married  woman  who  is  childless  ought  to  read 
this  tender,  charming  story ;  and  every  mother  must  read  it  sooner 
or  later. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


MR.  WINSTON   CHURCHILL'S  NOVELS 


Each,  cloth,  gilt  tops  and  titles,  $1.50 


A  Modern  Chronicle  Illustrated 

This,  Mr.  Churchill's  first  great  presentation  of  the  Eternal  Feminine,  is 
throughout  a  profound  study  of  a  fascinating  young  American  woman. 
It  is  frankly  a  modern  love  story. 

"  The  most  thorough  and  artistic  work  the  author  has  yet  turned  out.  A 
very  interesting  story  and  a  faithful  picture  of  character  .  .  .  one  that 
will  give  rise  to  much  discussion."  —  New  York  Sun. 

Mr.  Crewe's  Career  Illustrated 

"It  is  an  honest  and  fair  story.  ...  It  Is  very  interesting;  and  the 
heroine  is  a  type  of  woman  as  fresh,  original,  and  captivating  as  any  that 
has  appeared  in  American  novels  for  a  long  time  past."  —  The  Outlook. 

The  Celebrity    An  Episode 

"  No  such  piece  of  inimitable  comedy  in  a  literary  way  has  appeared  for 
years.  .  .  .  It  is  the  purest,  keenest  fun." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

Richard  Carvel  Illustrated 

"  In  breadth,  massing  of  dramatic  effect,  depth  of  feeling,  and  rare  whole- 
someness  of  spirit,  it  has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  surpassed  by  an  American 
romance."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

The  Crossing  Illustrated 

"  A.  thoroughly  interesting  book,  packed  with  exciting  adventure  and 
sentimental  incident,  yet  faithful  to  historical  fact  both  in  detail  and  in 
spirit."  —  The  Dial. 

The    Crisis  Illustrated 

"  A  charming  love  story  that  never  loses  its  interest.  .  .  .  The  intense 
political  bitterness,  the  intense  patriotism  of  both  parties,  are  shown 
understandingly."  —  Evening  Telegraph,  Philadelphia. 

Coniston  Illustrated 

"  A  lighter,  gayer  spirit  and  a  deeper,  tenderer  touch  than  Mr.  Churchill 
has  ever  achieved  before.  .  .  .  One  of  the  truest  and  finest  transcripts 
of  modern  American  life  thus  far  achieved  in  our  fiction."  —  Chicagf 
Record-Herald. 


PUBLISHED    BY 

THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  Tork 


By  Jack  London 
ADVENTURE 


Decorated  cloth,  izmo,  $1.50 


This  story  is  just  what  its  title  indicates  —  a  rousing  adventure  tale, 
with  lots  of  excitement,  no  little  humor,  and  considerable  sentiment. 
While  there  is  something  doing  from  first  to  last,  the  reader  is  not 
conscious  of  that  straining  after  effect  which  is  evident  in  so  many 
stories  of  rapid  and  exciting  plot.  It  is  told  with  a  sure  and  ready 
hand,  and  is  altogether  a  remarkable  piece  of  imaginative  writing. 

SOUTH  SEA  TALES 

Illustrated,  decorated  cloth,  ismo,  $1.2$  net 

Jack  London's  stories  of  the  South  Seas  have  a  sense  of  reality 
about  them  which,  even  if  the  author  were  obscure  and  his  goings 
and  comings  unknown,  would  prove  that  he  had  been  on  the 
ground  and  had  himself  taken  part  in  the  combats,  physical  and 
mental,  which  he  describes.  The  present  volume  is  a  collection  of 
vivid  tales,  which,  both  in  their  subject-matter  and  in  their  setting, 
give  the  author  free  hand. 

WHEN  GOD  LAUGHS 

Illustrated,  decorated  cloth,  izmo,  $1.50 

A  remarkably  stirring  volume  into  which  have  entered  all  of  the  ele- 
ments which  have  gone  to  make  its  author  one  of  the  most  widely 
read  novelists  of  his  time.  To  depict  graphically  "  the  struggles  of 
strong  men  in  a  world  of  strong  men,"  a  reviewer  once  declared  to 
be  Mr.  London's  special  province.  Certainly  it  is  the  province  which 
he  has  selected  for  himself  in  this  book.  "  When  God  Laughs,"  the 
initial  tale,  deals  with  a  novel  conception  of  the  love  of  man  and 
wife.  What  this  love  is,  and  what  it  brings  to  pass,  make  a  yarn 
which  is  as  finished  and  complete  a  piece  of  work  as  one  often  finds 
in  the  much  discussed  short-story  field. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  Tork 


UNIVERSITY  OF  rALIFOP""   LIBRARY 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


A     000120047    6 


